Looking Up Clear
by C. Lombai
There, is a painting of blues and whites.
Set your eyes high, put it in your sight.
The warm, blinding sun should shine its light.
The cool, soothing breeze blows from this height.
Such beauty! A while ago. Again.
Birds flying over are not a stain
To this wonder, changing with the wind.
They pause to look, from work, they rescind.
While I float in the river I see,
Relaxed, and squinting: "What a beauty!"
I find it also in my country,
Beauty you'll find right in Italy.
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