It was a dreary morning
And so we stayed in bed
Instead of colazione out,
Caffè perked in moka pot.

I.
Sleeping late, then writing and painting, as we wait for the rain to come to an end.

II.
Heading out, after some hemming and hawing, to make reservations at Osteria del Trivio.

III.
Walking down, our options fully weighed, to catch the moving staircase to the top.

IV.
Perched high above the town with all its stone, La Rocca is a mighty fortress still.

V.
On the circled path, we walk the whole way round accompanied by the caprice of weather.

VI.
Headed down, we take the street that leads the crowd beside La Piazza del Duomo.

VII.
Once we are sure there’s nothing going on, we step inside the church to sit a spell.

VIII.
Then back out the way we came, down the steps to the right, beside a favored park.

IX.
Wending our way, past apartments we will only buy in the fever of unbridled imagination.

X.
Stopped short by tomorrow’s date on the Exhibit poster, we double-check the itinerary.

XI.
Turning this way and that, without discussion or map, until we pass SS. Giovanni e Paolo.

XII.
From the corner of our eyes, we spot the patient clerk from the fine arts supply store.

XIII.
Glance inside La Ciocolateria, wondering if Grazia has to work at all on Easter Sunday.

XIV.
A final hitch in our giddy up: five, maybe six, flights of stairs (depending on who’s counting).

Just when I thought I had solved the technology of NCAA coverage by clicking here for CBS Sports, the Internet Border Control informed me last night that certain precious content is not allowed to cross international waters. Argggh!

Sights of Easter coming soon
On every street, around every
Storefront, all over town.

Invitations have been sent.
Only given my bad Italian
I don’t know what is meant.

The first time we go out,
We get as far as breakfast
Before getting all that wet.

Safe and dry, back at home,
We wait for the sun to crest
Before making our grocery run.

Happy to be out and about
Even if completing errands–
Then a torrent comes down.

Plain to see, in this town,
The rain falls unpredictably
Sooner or later, now and again;

While plans, like the one
Many years in the making,
Are now open for the season.

One by one, the moons fall
Well before we are done
With the final count.

Madness, an impossible
Problem set for ourself:
Who knew what mischief?

Only now, a year later,
Do I discover the error
In the prior bookmaking.