Memories of Siena (1st Draft)

A poem I wrote on a recent (and first) visit to Siena. Such a special place.

Cypress trees dark and daggerish slice 
Through blueish skies like
Sails through sea.
Olives dangle lazily from silver trees 
Blessed by heaven, fed by earth.
Honeysuckle lines the streets
The goodness of a million suns
On the heaving breast of Tuscan hills
Birds chuckle
Grasses wave
Pruned roses pout their
Fat pink lips.
Vines assemble in battalions
Their fruit will fall to Man someday.
Jaded cedars
Hang high and
Stretch in surrender like the arms of Christ
Under these, the quiet calm
Of moss, fig, and geranium.
Clouds congregate and mourn onto the earth
Like ghosts of lost children.
Fall on wild flowers
With simple faces and
Sophisticated scents.
Boundaryless and bountiful:
The hills of sweet Siena.
Red poppies swing on grassy plains
The fire and flag of Italy.
– BF