Morning Dawns over Florence
By: Michael A. Arnold
A morning rose
across the city,
and the ringing,
ringing church bells
told believers to be
Massbound.
Like every morning,
I would get up from
my cheap hotel room,
and grab the bus
to the center
of Florence
To soak it all in
before I went home.
I must have spent hours
dodging the bikes and cars
flowing through the branching
thicket of narrow streets
that Dante knew.
Watching people
trickle into the room
of The Birth of Venus
and Spring by Botticelli
in the Uffizi gallery,
and eating the ice cream
with the violet sugar
in the rooftop cafe,
that cost about 10 euros,
which I couldn't exactly afford
but was totally worth it.
In la Santa Maria del Fiore
watching believers bend
to light the candles
on two stands
with hundreds of arms
like two small trees
with fiery,
autumnal leaves.
Then looking up,
through heatmist,
at the inside of il duomo,
the blossoming paint
pointing to the light
of the heaven outside.
Then finally watching
from Ponte Vecchio
the sun dip down
to the land below it.
I will never forget
the dying, winered sky
reflected in the surface
on the calm river water.
Yes, all those memories
Flowering up inside me
That was a kind of pilgrimage.
But, why can't I write about it?
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