Postcard from Guillac

I’ve just stopped in a village;

There’s no post office here,
But I’ll send this to you later.
I’m writing from Guillac,
Where hydrangeas surround
The ancient stone buildings
And fill the flowerpots.
There’s only a school and a church
And a bar and a cemetery,
Ordinary for a small French town.
Narrow paths through thick woods
And the hot humid air
Have made the bike ride here a long one,
But the fresh scent of the dewy grass
And cool breeze from the river
And the church bells and birds
Ringing and singing in harmony
Have made it worthwhile.