From an Italian Hill

Sun rouses ground; its fire-fingers

delve into earth’s humus

deadening the green yet

bringing life.

The valley’s snakes

unwind their silver coils:

on the river, fireworks

cascade on rising vapours.

The road, like fluid lead

refracts sunlight.

Silence sits still.

Suspended are all senses,

and only scents can shift

reality into a dream.

I have grown wings.

I join the seagulls’ dives

or simply fly

surrendering the self.

Clouds sail across

and hold back sunbeams,

but memories remain

real for a while – yet -

like living, love, and time

temporary, pure illusions.

2004