Roman Sky

The earth wears a skirt
Weaved into a chessboard.
Ribbed columns
Dig into her
Like phallic giants.
The satyr plays
Hide and seek
In the stone mirror
Reflecting Claudian fields.
Between the columns
An infant protector
Counts the mosaic
Like a universe.
There is a peace
Impossible to master.
There is a peace
That was earned
By laurels and odes.
...Impossible to master.
Wild faces soak up the sun
Like ladybirds of noon.
A tranquil painter
Kissers their lips
With ochre hues,
And the dew
Leaves a glitter
In their mad eyes.
A morning wind
Covers him with
A blanket of idols
He smiles like a
Mask of felicity.
A child runs around
The feet of his
Young parents, as they
Stroll the black and white
Street of brilliant dawn.
They hold each others
Warm hands,
And give each other
A kiss of Icons
Whenever the little boy
Looks up to the
Roman sky.
Theirs is a peace
Impossible to master.