roman countryside

who knows why
roosters crow at odd hours

in this silence
full with gardens vineyards
houses in the sun
(then tonight the usual howl
at the moon)

in these instants centuries-long
that slip away
dismayed

is it this desire mediterranean
that enwraps me
to make me feel
more
the thick fragrance of the figtree
the wave of oleanders

this land found again
descends in the fluidity
of memories captured on furtive tapes
the past unearths
the moment made uneasy
remembrances collide
against the fury of refusal

all seems as then

not the pergola now so tall
nor the shade of the palm
now so wider

all of sudden
a rooster crows in the distance
who knows why at this hour