From sixteenth-century towers villagers once warned of Saracen raiders their signal fires blazed across the night sky like meteors
They ran pounding the Cinque Terre coastal trail fleeing to stone fortresses sometimes finding sanctuary
We hiked their path your long legs stalwart my new hip joints delivering on promises I didn’t quite believe
We walked through lemon trees and olive groves leaned over wooden railings where the cliffs plunge to a heaving green-blue sea imagined pirates anchored in the bay
We switch backed through terraced vineyards hanging with golden grapes You picked just one its sweetness burst on my tongue
On the trail, a young man held his girlfriend’s hand balanced her as she high-stepped atop an ancient wall in stiletto heels
I trekked the twisting turning path gnarled with roots in sturdy footgear sure you’d try to catch me if I fell
At last we reached Belforte stronghold now for hungry hikers perched on the tower’s last table basked in the sun
We drank in the sweeping Mediterranean the horizon disappearing into gray-blue sky the marvel of Vernazza’s tall jewel-colored houses chiseled into the cliffs
I discreetly shook pebbles out of my hiking boots wiped a smear of dust from my forehead Around us families in summer suits and flowered dresses murmured to each other ate their decorous Sunday lunch
We were as ravenous as those villagers who fled marauders fifteen hundred years ago My plate of dark shelled mussels swam in wine and garlic Your lobster, octopus and shrimp spilled over the serving platter
We tore at crusty bread ordered two liters of local wine crisp white for me red for you
We clinked glasses toasted our journey, our sanctuary We were dizzy with ourselves buzzy glowing
From our aerie we cheered on reckless swimmers diving off obsidian cliffs into green foaming waves living their thrill
We floated in our hazy daydream watched sailboats skim over the water shared spoonfuls of sweet cream gelato flecked with chocolate
To make the last train back to Florence we should’ve run
But down at the harbor the ferry slid up to the stone pier So instead we scrambled scored the last seats topside
Kicked back rode along the coastline in a shimmering dream imagined we were pirates the day still ours
Elizabeth Fletcher’s poems have appeared in The Cape Cod Times, Spaceports & Spidersilk, Schuylkill Valley Journal, Tiny Seed Literary Journal, Book of Matches, and the Ekphrastic Review among others. She was a 2023 Rhysling Award nominee and a 2021 Pushcart prize nominee. Her Philadelphia Inquirer publications include essays on sea turtles and Snowy owls.
