A little subtly steamy poetry

here

Sunday in the Country

Stand silently beside several dozen mostly male parishioners murmuring the words like chanting to every prayer outside a stone chapel which holds 12 seated, mostly older women, and the soft spoken Priest, who has been the priest of this parish for well over 50 years, while one old man and two children comb the hillsides for wild strawberries.

Sit at a very long table under a terra cotta tiled portico in the sometimes sun sometimes drizzle and pass small trays of tender succulent wood burning oven roasted venison, herb roasted chicken, tripe, sausages, anchovies, herb marinated bean salads, cold rice salads, potato salads, green salads, baked polenta with fresh porcini mushroom sauce, while people loudly and amicably discuss language, local wine making, the potential of the olive harvest this year, olive curing, and the ongoing recovery process of the land use rights of the people to 1700 hectares of land at Lago Santo ceded to them in the 1600's.

Taste a half dozen home made tortes and cakes while two children wander who knows where and then roll giggling down closely mowed banks.

Drink quantities of very good locally made wine, limoncello, blueberry liqueur, grappa, and finally coffee and not feel over full or drunk except on the experience.

Creative Writing 101

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