Between Trieste and Amantea

There were mountains.

Some green.

Lots of rock.

It was twilight much of the time

except when sun spanked the horizon.

My ancestors noticed these things

only as it pertained to goat schedules

and meal preparation.

Few of us have looked up or dared

to imagine something more.

It doesn’t matter.

There is no more than mountains and

green and rock and dinner.

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