After our lunch, there will be time for untold
Visions and revisions before the heavens lift.
Going out, down Corso Garibaldi, for a stroll;
Winding up, as we often do, with these gifts.

Years of great memories (and lots of good food)
Are locked away behind a shuttered front. “O lost,”
Our thought, “and by the wind grieved, ghost come back.”

Not at all to be confused with Peter Falk,
La Columba is the Italian word for dove:
A term that has special meaning at Easter,
When all the shops are overrun with pink.

Late yesterday at La Piazza del Mercato,
The historical site of the town’s old market,
We picked out our cake at the corner negozio
Known for the quality of its olio e balsamico.

After dinner, it was time to carve the bird.
Since she has a sweet spot for La Columba,
Rebecca held the honors in her loving hand:
Light morsels of heaven unlike any fruit cake.

As Grazia treats Rebecca to some chocolate on her cornetto,
The familiar crowd joins in the spirit of the moment, as usual:

As if we ever leave the place for very long.