Sabine Hills
In candlelight I marvel
At her Mona Lisa face
Shaped in classic Italian
Her lips forming a smile
Sharp and unambiguous.
Gentle rises and slopes,
Soft inclines and descents,
A landscape rolling with
Trees in full foliage, the
Hills in summer splendor.
I love all to her ancestors
Sleeping in Etruscan tombs
Along winding Roman roads
To that long lineage that brought
Her here I am indebted.
In the valleys vineyards grow
And grapes ripen toward purple
In the moving shadows of
Green leaves animated
In an afternoon breeze.
I love the family line that painted
This face sculpted this form
Bottled this vintage, may
They sleep forever sweetly
In Sabine hills.
contributed by:
dtanoury@ix.netcom.com |
