perfectly aligned rows
vineyards, no doubt family
owned, speckle the countryside,
barren spaces on this dismal April
afternoon, otherwise littered with
green bushes and sparsely leafed trees,
each with their own tint of green.
some yellowish and others deep and foresty,
the occasional brown or red peaking
through, visible from the train
and look, look there at the mossy
patches with their stone backdrop.
the train announces mechanically,
as if almost
hesitating before deciding it is
the proper station.
the train pulls in,
rain drizzling calmly on its head,
and stops gently in the station,
its blue staircases and beige stone buildings
quiet distractions from the nature we’ve only just
left, full of its mossy greens and