To me there is nothing as beautiful
As the wing of your shoulder,
You take off quickly,
Moving gently from flower to flower,
A shimmering flash of blue wings
Lures me out of blankets,
Alp houses, wild grapevines,
Finding peace on your Himalayas.
To me there is nothing as merciful
As a south wind from Lake Garda,
It clears the snow off my lungs,
Disarms my notorious
A shimmering flash of blue eyes
Unanchores the stars in my hemisphere,
Are we the wings of the same butterfly?
Are we the plops of the same tear?
(Painting “Forgiven’ by Sara Maino)