Adagio

It is that time of day when the sound of traffic
On the road beyond the farro fields
Subsides and settles to a reverential hum
Cypress shadows a prelude to evening's calm

This is the time I pour myself a glass of wine
Place a well worn record on the turntable
And indulge in Beethoven's Spring sonata
The second movement sensuously unravelling
Like hushed conversation in a slow, slow, dance

So now I sit in the stillness, sipping and tapping
Entranced by the tranquillity of the Tuscan twilight
While the catgut and ivory notations float in unison
All the way around my sunlit evening room

© Declan Whitney 2018