Siena. Poem by Michael Cochrane

Where the morning sun turns to shimmering gold against the tall slender cypress trees of old.
In Piazza del campo round the centuries the Palio race was run.
Siena wakes to colorful flags in the summer breeze.
In the afternoon the beating drumbs and ten horses are ready to move held by the reins by jockeys in silks.
The city holds its breath, the signal is given and the whirlwind of hooves on ancient stones begins the flags are raised like flames in the August air.
Ninety seconds of bareback excitement and passion.
Michael Cochrane ©️ 2026