Since Amanda desires it for the A and I Poetry Challenge, my first limerick it is. When was the last time you did something for the first time?
There once was a field in Toscana
that couldn’t decide what it’s gonna:
rest, freeze or make room
for poppies to bloom.
Once done, autumn said: “I don’t wanna.”
The cypress field in question is one of several I pass on my daily walk to the station. Here it is in all seasons, such as they are here in Mediterranean southern Tuscany.
It starts with September which is the most underwhelming month, but only on the surface, and ends with the explosion of poppies in June. In July and August the field turns into a dry patch like everything else.
Extras: a black cat, the familiar tail and the first snow in the five years since I’m here. Click on a photo to view them in the gallery.
If you like this kind of by-the-seasons view, find three links to similar posts below.
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