at last
I find the right path
often the walls
have defied me
like the French

Garibaldi
is still there
as I remember
but no blood
and mayhem now
just juniper trees
a carpet of cones
December
azure skies

looking across
the domes
and spires
I watch
the city
so quiet
from here

further on
the wooded hills
of Latium
frame the plain
the city
the sea
to which
the Tiber
flows
relentlessly