This poem was written outside the fishbowl project on June 26, 2011. It's a followup to "Fiorenza and the Witch-son" and "From the Free City." It does have a central challenge, but it's also a milieu poem for the local flavor of an Italian village. It has been sponsored by marina_bonomi. You can read about the Italian sonnet form online, or explore more of Fiorenza the Wisewoman on the Serial Poetry page. Mad Ercole sat with them, all the day; When Fiorenza nodded in the end
-- an Italian sonnet
Giacinto watched her as she worked her way
Upon affronted naiads sleek and bold,
Their limbs so slim, their perfect faces cold
As she dared interrupt them at their play.
He dabbled in the pool, his breeches rolled,
And watched the slow bronze sun as church bells tolled
Then listened as the naiads had their say.
The fountain-tender broached his box of tools
To plumb the fountain's depths and set things right.
The watching men knew she had things to mend --
The boys who teased the naiads had been fools --
They'd wait for her, through softly fading light.
Mad Ercole sat with them, all the day;
When Fiorenza nodded in the end