©Photo Courtesy of Hardik Gohil*
in Castelluccio,
where Heaven’s angels tread
through fields of autumn
sweetly dressed in red.
kissed by Italian winds,
inflamed poppies dance
swaying gently
where wild stallions prance!
oh, Umbria,
where the saints have dined
in the meadows flowing
‘neath the Apennines,
such beauty lifts
the tired souls of men,
setting mortal feet
where only God has been!
in Winter’s grasp
each velvet petal weeps
for these fields of poppies
should never sleep!
The Winter Bites My Bones 
Thank you so much 🙂
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Thank you so much for giving this honor to my friend. I am happy for him. And I have no words for the poem.:)
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Eternal beauty comes through your verse as if , from now, the poppies cannot but live in steps of god and a man’s soul, throughout all seasons and blessed by the myrific lands of Italy. What a pleasure to read.
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