Andorra

Since the time of Charlemagne
this tiny kingdom
a peephole lost in the sky
Spain one side, France the other
suggesting parental influence
over a mountain realm
astride a cultural divide
having absorbed features of both
yet asserting independence.

Peaks rising from the Hercynian orogeny
folded and uplifted, gouged and shattered
softened by deep winter snow
attract the sporting hordes weaving
and shimmying down into valleys
but in summer lie in alpine meadows
where sun peels the rock faces
while they lie in languorous heat.

Look there – high up! A lammergeier
curving over a rock shoulder
gliding on a thermal
or from impossible height circling,
scanning the ground for sustenance.

Andorra – I read you like the title of a love poem
escaped from days of chivalry and romance
a story of affection in a stark landscape
that commands opportunism and enterprise
with fiscal survival dependent on
a duty-free, tax-free haven.

Andorra – enterprising woman
with a taste for the high life,
high maintenance perhaps
whom you would not wish to cross
but in whose presence you may feel
a connection, a welcome slowing of the pace
to a calmer pulse of life.