Some Little Thoughts
by Raymonde Sacklyn
The Tuscany
Wake to the
morning’s sun;
View nature’s majestic harmony;
Listen! Taste! – Verdurous slopes;
Bouquets of herbs; The chirping of birds –
The air is pure and free!
This is Tuscany.
Pigeons fly
from bough to bough,
Their coos break the silence of the early day,
From vineyard to vineyard,
From olive grove to olive grove,
The land is alive; one sits silently to smell and see:
This land called Tuscany.
When day ends
and sun descends,
Obscured are groves, hills, and old church spires;
The failing light casts shadows over many an ancient vale;
And it is time to rest. But, first, view once again
The wonderment of this scenery:
Of Tuscany.
A dog barks
in the distance, disturbing my silence;
A mild breeze stirs the leaves, the trees, devoid of fruit;
The smell of rosemary and sage still linger
When night’s cloak falls.
I close my eyes. I reminisce. Nature’s symphony:
That is Tuscany.
