listening to the darkness seeing through the silence

we intended to walk through the old streets of Asolo, the city just south and east of us

to see the amazing "100 horizons" the town is known for

before having pizza at the Cornaro in the town center

but the light changes as quickly as the weather 

from clear and crisp and blue to cloudy grey and foggy

I turn...reaching...for my camera

and a shadow passes over the moment

and suddenly the twilight of evening has turned into night

speaking of light...
a boutique along the way
that repairs restores and builds lamp fixtures
a real live 'Restoration Hardward'

the Hotel Villa Cipriani (another family name...)
and the once residence of Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning

we make our way through the cobbled Medieval streets 

and up into the castle of Caterina Cornaro

the same cafe where E.Hemingway used to sit

and then we sit awhile outside at the Cafe Centrale
and sip a 'cioccolata calda'
the thickest most luscious hot chocolate in the world...it's like warm pudding...

and tonight as I am doing the dishes after a rare dinner at home

the guitar fills the one front room...our 'living' room

the one lamp in the sitting area is all that illuminates the small kitchen just steps away 

ample light to do the dishes...

so I don't turn on the overhead

I stand washing and listening to the music

and I think of my dad

he taught me at a very early age that you can tell when things are clean

by the way they feel

he encouraged me to rub...to touch...to feel

he is also the man who taught me...to see

to walk in the woods and to notice

not just the trees and the green and the smell and the birds and the color but the light

the light...

in the morning

the light in the afternoon

the light in the evening

and he taught me how to gather that light 

to capture that light through the lens of  my camera...

maybe I think of him

because we've been doing the ancestor search in Italy thing lately

maybe it's because the pans that are here in our small apartment 

are the same brown Teflon pans I remember washing as a child...

or maybe I think of him

because I have been trying 

...to see 

...to feel

through the silence

and listen in the darkness...

this picture from the night before makes me so sad I weep

these bells were blaring

clinging clanging ringing
tolling...

and yet no one can hear them by looking

it looks quiet

it is silent

a silent picture...

I sit in mass

and look attentive as if I am listening

but I cannot understand a single word

but can anyone tell that by looking at me 

no one knows

my mind swirls and churns 

voices, words,  memories, dreams

never silence

and yet

I walk around quietly

I speak softly and smile

no one can see the bells ringing in my head...

no one feels what fills my mind

all my photographs are perfectly silent

traffic and parties and clocks ticking and birds singing and crowds gathered and the ocean roaring...

all quiet

I don't know why this bell tower seems so particularly sad and quiet to me tonight

like the light

like the weather

like the six hours of time difference

shadows pass
darkness comes 
and I listen 
while somewhere it is still light
...and where somewhere light is yet to come

with all the high Renaissance art and sculpture in this area
this roughly carved Christ
still a part of the fallen tree seems particularly beautiful to me
crucifixion and incarnation