In Campagna
(Tor Vergata, Saturday 8 am)
Timetables abated till Monday morning,
exegeses and formulae on hold,
the Faculty celebrates as best it knows
its air-conditioning. Via vents, flues,
windows which someone forgot to close,
thrums a rhapsody to Nothing Doing.
The odd bird, taking a rest from north,
east or west, the pecky triangulations
between, throws in its penny-whistle’s worth,
primordial tweets that predate clown
and emperor, high-pitched whirrs, castanets,
a caw-cra-caw karaokeying Tom Waits.
Randomness makes music all its own,
complete with poppy-strewn sensurround,
pine-trees’ verdant black, the dance of pollen.
Sun as baton, now starts up an early insect –
heat’s cellist creaking it ever higher,
testing acoustics for noon’s fête champêtre.
Martin Bennett lives in Rome where he teaches and proofreads at the University while contributing occasional articles to ‘Wanted in Rome’. his poems have appeared in Agenda, Stand , Poetry Ireland Review and elsewhere. He was 2015 Winner of the John Dryden translation prize.