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And The Cicada Sings
(English, Italian)
E La Cicala Canta
The Lake
Fresh grass wet from the night dew, footprints left; small lake before sun
up, among shadows of bamboo, hiding the mallard still asleep. Slant of
light searching the shadow, the frog begging the sun. Robin calls for
the sun, echoing the blackbird not far away. Shines the sun full of
memories, smells, stagnant water, the heron on one leg, among the weeds is
watching; watching the mallard, looking for a place to put the egg, the new
brood. Sparkling new tall green cattails from deep down roots, large
green leaves of lilies where the coot rests it's black body; peace, music,
offering of nature; how beautiful you are this morning, fresh grass, wet
from the night dew. |