SANDBARS

You like going further down into the naked horizon

beyond San Francesco del Deserto’s tight greenness,

the rich garland of cypresses staring at the light,

beyond the bare squared top

of Torcello’s bell tower, towering

in the middle of its nowhere.

You like beyond where there’s nothing more,

patches and patches of water, mud and grass

and the mellow silence of mauve flowers

and low waves in thin fingers of breeze.

The opposite of mountain peaks and high seas,

here nothing needs to fall or climb or rumble

and you taste in the air the rest

and fulfilment of the expanse of shallows.

Walking on water could be a gentle feat

and gently, in the labyrinth of canals,

the egrets’ still whiteness invites you

to fade in a reeds’ rustle while you breathe.