To bring my blog back to a happier note, this poem is about an experience I had whilst in Italy. In the little city of Tivoli there is a great villa with vast expansive gardens full of fountains. I toured most of it and it was one of the best places I have ever been. Our tour guide emphasized taking things in and just being present with the art. So for about thirty minutes I just lay down on the edge of a pool and felt. It was so so so wonderful, I just sat up, pulled out my notebook, and started to write. This is what that lovely day produced.
The Fountains at d’este
I can feel the sun burrow
In my skin like a cold mouse.
Almost as if seeking comfort.
The wind buffeting me playfully,
Not knowing the chill it gives.
Everything is stable, present, and unafraid.
You feel as if you are intruding on their daily lives and chores,
But they assure you that they enjoy your company.
The warmth of the sun coats the stone like a thick syrup
After eons of sinking down and down and down.
I wish there was a way to describe the
Shy beauty and coy nature
The water gives off.
All the fish aware and yet not.
The ceramic mits hug my face.
A small leaf falls.
Sun at my back,
Wind in my skin,
And I am gone.