There lies hung on my wall
A lovely country picture of Milan
Fashioned by Dillens’ splendid hand
Capturing a grape harvest in time.
Caught within the strict boundaries
Of a window – like gilded frame
Milan comes alive as a scene
Seen before and well too close.
A wheelbarrow rolls on a shaded road
Pulled by two ruddy young lads
While a toddler sits inside
Enjoying the care of an elder lass.
Dusk has set in after the day’s work
With the figures marching homewards,
Having caroused the season’s joy
With new hopes under an aquamarine sky.
Toil never seemed to taste so sweet
As the fruit that the season brought
Given out by the ambient bliss
Of a kind folk who love and share.
The landscape clutched at my heart
With stinging pain of constant longing
To be part of the bold serenity
That brews passions through great art.