they took turns singing the sun to sleep as a thank you, it left a painting resting above the sea then, scattered pinpricks of light and they danced until morning a thin place living its title modestly; a home each treasure gathered on its wanderers’ journeys welcomed; infinite space awaits Florence, dear, you can’t keep your secrets from me healing buildings with olive trees roads nestled between ancient stone kumquats in rose gardens you made each worn path new to me; we even put our name on one. |