We climbed today, to a church in the clouds. We woke up early and had breakfast listening to the church bells ring. We walked around an empty piazza, before most people were awake. there are some people having breakfast behind the window of a glassed-in archway.
There was a vertical stone graveyard set into the facade wall.
A bus ride into Briegli shall take us to begin our hike up Monte Grona. We are to hike into the hidden mountains and learn that no one knows what to call hiking in Italy. ‘Footing?’ maybe.
We began our ascent. It was a day to be spent in the clouds. You could not see 20 minutes ahead, or 20 minutes behind. Time was only for now, the turning edge of a mountain, the purple fluted flower and bumble bee sucking as I pass. The fist-sized rock that most of Monte Grona consisted of was difficult to climb.
The Recipe of a City
Lakes that lap green grass shores
stone walls with burrowing arch caves
pathways against long walls
twelve friends who opened a hostel at our age
a waxing moon over the tip of Bellagio
embrace the differences
even those you know so as to be accustomed
thankfully we are all different
I’ve come to Italy to get my nerve back
The black lakes calms by night
a medium place, in between a border
where I am expected to speak my given language.