March 10, 2008
Italia, Italy in Italian,
With lush vinyards all along the
countryside. Plump grapes hang in bunches,/
Waiting to be picked.
Made into wine to be drunk with the
midday meal.
The Tuscan landscape,
with gently rolling hills,
stetches as far as the eye can see.
Beautifully waving vegetation
survives through the punishments of civilization./
And last of all—
But certainly not least—
THe great firey mountain
which is Etna,
Creating and destroying
in cycles until it can exist no more.

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