San Felice di Circeo

The wind came in looking here and there for whatever it could find
sending the dead leaves marching to reveal the tender green
shoots of spring beneath; the hushing of the wind
telling us to be silent here in the woods
far from the prying eyes of man
I long to be a bird to spend
all day circling in the
clouds
as they
shift shapes
from one mansion
into the next where
the giant sleeps and dragons
once roamed or so we are told,
here comes a riderless horse, his mane
flying in the wind and whinnying, he passes
on by me going down the road becoming smaller
until I hear no hoof beats and silence returns to take
me prisoner once again with the thoughts of things I cannot
let go of despite their desire to die a natural death when all involved
but me in those events have long forgotten and have no regrets but I do
stubbornly insist on hanging on to what should have been buried long ago
next to the hatchet and the pumice stone until the tide goes out and leaves
me stranded without the boat which brought me here to this lone island which
only rabbits and their warrens share between the wild rose bushes and the sage
I wait quietly for Circe to return and take me to her lair and cast a spell upon me
perhaps she’ll turn me into a fish this time so I can ride the waves beside Odyseus