On this date in 1976, I was in Paris on a foreign study league trip with a group of students. On this particular date, I visited the Basilica of Sacre Coeur. The visit had a profound effect on me. Later, I wrote this poem:
Sacre Coeur, Paris
In the Metro
I could not feel the rain.
Emerging as from sleep
at the other end of Paris
where the rain just stopped,
you were waiting,
waiting for me
on top of the highest hill.
Heart pounding speed
into my legs,
I climbed a million steps
to meet you.
Tired hitchhikers
sang beside your door.
Rain wet city
glistened at sunset,
stretched before your face.
You called stories out of our hands,
gifts out of our eyes.
You never closed for the night.
The stars rose down
on your round white crown
like halo,
like Bethlehem.
Scattered Showers in a Clear Sky 