~STANLEY
PLUMLY~
"THE
MORNING
AMERICA
CHANGED"
Happened in the afternoon at Villa
Serbelloni.
We’d closed up shop on the work
for the day
and decided to make the long descent
down
the elegant stone switchback path
into Bellagio
for coffee and biscotti. It was
still Tuesday
and a quarter to three and a good
quarter hour
to the exit gate or if you stopped
to look
at the snow on the Alps or at "the
deepest
lake in all of Italy" or looked
both ways
at once—as we say crossing a street—five,
ten minutes longer. This day was
longer
because it was especially, if redundantly,
beautiful, with the snow shining
and the lake
shining and the big white boats
shining
with tourists from Tremezzo and
Varenna.
And the herring gulls and swallows
at different
layers, shining like mica in the
mountain rock.
And the terra cotta tiles of the
village roofs
almost shining, almost close enough
to touch.
Judith was already in the pasticceria
and I was looking skyward on Via
Garibaldi,
the one-way traffic lane circling
the town,
when I heard the rain in the distance
breaking
and then her voice through the window
calling
and then on the tiny screen inside
pillars of fire pouring darkly into
clouds.
© by Stanley Plumly
