Sunday, August 18, 2013


In these green fields I am alone,
far from home,
well, not an unfamiliar place by now,
nor I am really alone
but once more with a dog-
dogs, the chance of many a road.
I’m walking her, a favor to friends,
she is friendly and obedient
and walks almost on a straight line
on the path of the lawn.
Gusts of wind make
the oaks and lime-trees sway,
a swarming of branches we gaze at,
I sit on a bench and she walks around
sniffing life under swollen clouds
in parade on patches of blue,
spreading their own pageant hue:
billows of silence and aloneness
with a touch of anything up there
and, despite anything, the grass
of desire, the forwardness.
A dog going on sniffing
while the sky blooms
busy with travelling clouds
with, behind, the sun’s gaze,
now a mellow blaze,
a mother-of-pearl light-grey,
welding here onto away.


Crafty Green Poet said...

I like the image of the dog snigging away oblivious to the skies. At the same time the poet can never know the full fascination of all those wonderful smells that the dog can find but we can't....

Tommaso Gervasutti said...

How true, unlike us for dogs smelling is much more important and more intense than seeing. It's Always fascinating and surprising, and also comic, when my dog here in Venice, while on the leash, stops abruptly and gets riveted to the spot almost making me lose my balance...because she has just smelled something heavenly and wants to "taste" its smell to the bottom...