Como

by Ross Jackson

after a chill night of rains, first fast ferry of the day
peels a wake through grey bloodstream
of Lago di Como

admitted through the gates
of Villa Carlotta
tucked in at the base of forested overhang
we pause on narrow, two-way paths—
a view through cloud shadow
of terraces of yew, redwood and rainforest palms

when sun at last, lights up the sky
time for lunch at Tremezza’s ‘Red and White Café
distracting drone of a seaplane
exiting cloud
its gentle alighting on the lake
the suggestion of a bee on a trembling flower

observed from lower deck of our returning ferry—
nine Tibetan priests, well wrapped in woollen maroon
— at the end of the day, my own memories inspired
not just by what any passenger might have seen
but a meld of reflections
shadowing us to the jetty
at the end of the darkening lake