The Cypress Avenue 


The undulating hills of my conscience 
Play with light after the grain harvest 
In that bowl of plenty, the Orcia Valley 
Which so pleased the great Piccolomini 
  
Or I choose to think that it is so 
That Man may make right here heaven henceforth 
As I believe that charity is rewarded 
With such virile faith the paths are graded 
  
The way along the cypress avenue 
For the weary soul is the direction home 
The sun glows on the cypress avenue 
In the foreground of the mountain in view 
  
But if these contours are made lush by toil
Is labour not our natural vocation 
Such that this great beauty bounding from earth 
Give to us our most constant sense of worth?

Pienza, 2 September 2006