Veneto Poem by robert dickerson

In this region they use high technology
to design trains that utterly foil sleep.
Avisso: take first class, it's still quite cheap
though elsewise prices creep to parity.
Oh, but it's different-still so different here.
The earth is like a mare that loves her groom.
Ears pricked, comes cantering from afar
eager by his hand to render bloom.
Telephone wires etch the sky like staves
beset with tidy larks and tuneful quail
singing the madrigals that they compose.
One silence holds the stations and the nave.
A grace-afflicted virgin, every girl
and every boy a new Aeneas, brave.