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IN THE PIAZZA..............
by Allen McGill, MX
As the sun
crosses the Piazza San Marco, so too does the music from the string quartets
progressing from cafe to cafe with the cooling shade of the afternoon. Protected
from the glare by centuries-old buildings, white-clothed tables await aficionados
of cappuccino and gelato.
I watch lovers
saunter at leisure. Hand in hand, they seem barely aware of the Byzantine splendor
of the nearby Basilica. I stop to watch pigeons peck at discarded crumbs from
the tabletops, moving swiftly only out of need.
Gondoliers
stand and wait aboard their bobbing craft, red-tabbed hats topping off their
uniformed whites.
I nod to
a pair of Carabinieri as they strut smartly across the Piazza, impressive in
slick uniforms and shiny black hats of the Napoleonic era. Intent on their
conversation—and a passing signorina—they garner the attention of everyone
in sight.
Laughter
from the waiters is carried to me on the air, along with a myriad of accented
tongues and the enticing scent of fresh brewed coffee.
church
bells—
pigeons suffuse the air
as strollers pause
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