Sometimes a story is best told succinctly.
When I first visited St. Barts in 1994, I was there for a relatively short time, ten days surrounding Valentines. My good friend Shannon Westerman enticed Glenn and me with stories of beautiful villas, fabulous French cuisine, amazing beaches, and a laissez-faire attitude perfect for relaxation. Shannon was dead-on in every aspect, and we have journeyed back several times since then.
During that first trip, I was exposed to such an explosion of sights, sounds, smells, contrasts, and sensations, that I got up before dawn one morning and composed a poem—a distillation of my experience.
Shannon, his partner, Tim Ancona, Glenn, and I rented a beautiful villa and had the time of our lives. Here’s the poem.
by Jody Zimmerman
Dusty, fire-rock, earth-smell isle.
Dotted green, carved down
To sand-lipped bays with turquoise tongues.
A traveler’s passion.
Sun-braised, saline dryness,
Splattered by windy rain.
Begging, bleating goats resound.
Spider-strung cacti comb
The wind sculpting scrubby trees.
The legacy stands amid
Cool, fresh-water promises.
Cliff climbing villas
Cling to something exquisite.
I hope you enjoyed the poem. Please feel free to give me your feedback.
I have posted a few photographs from that trip. They are old and faded, but the memories are not.
Our villa, Les Petits Pois, in the village of Colombier
The view from our villa
A tree sculpted by the trade winds
The elegant port city, Gustavia
Shannon, Jody, & Glenn at Grande Saline Beach
Tim & Shannon near our villa