Poetry Mountain High

After a  long, hot summer, it's the season of storms. In a way, I look forward to it, the way it gathers and unleashes something. I'm sitting writing at our kitchen table, overlooking the green valley between Pianello and Travaglio, as thunder rumbles over the town and the first raindrops start to patter on the terrace.

Looking forward to reading a few poems and hearing many more at the Festa della Poesia tomorrow at Salaiola, a lovely little town on Amiata, our local extinct volcano.

https://festadellapoesia.blogspot.com