THE SWEET KISS OF A BIRD

 (JOSEPH J. CONTE  03/05/2009)

In the Lombardy region of Italy, located on Lake Como,

Is a comune, visible south of the Alps, named Bellagio.

In the center of Bellagio, the beautiful Hotel Florence sits,

With the lakes spectacular scenic views, of its Y shaped splits.

A few miles to the north, where the Villa Tres Jolie stands,

The remnants of the Tertiary Age glaciers rise as folded bands. 

High and sharply folded mountains, with snow capped tops,

Beckon to climbers young and old, like chocolate covered lollipops.

A lady of the world, she understood the value of leaving the pits,

Visualized the comfort, beauty and che, leaving behind all the glitz.

The mountains before her had peaks covered with snow,

As she moved ever slowly, the sun made her hands glow.

One hand at a time, she placed each hand in a ring, that she moored,

In concert, she moved each foot, until they were both safely secured.

As she reached for the summit,  a bird fluttered above her last hook,

A pretty little bird, quite different than those listed in her bird book.

It fluttered and sang a soothing repetitive song, that titillated her soul,

The bird sat by her side, as she recapped her climb, reaching her goal.

As she sat on the summit, with her head on her knees, she looked all around,

The view was spectacular, with clouds, sun and snow, a view so profound.

The day was telling her, I must go to sleep and let night arrive,

I"ll be setting soon, and the moon and the stars will soon come alive.

The chirping sweet little bird, seemed to be getting a chill,

And its feathers and legs shook,  as did its chattering bill.

As she left to retreat to the city below, the bird flew briefly onto her finger,

It shook and it quivered, and touched her sweet lips, but never did linger.

Amazed by this day, of bountiful beauty with nature and che,

She climbed down the mountain, as happy as could be.

The next day was beautiful, so she went to the mountain once more,

She hooked up her gear, started her climb, on this last day of her tour.

When she got near the summit, the bird fluttered just above her head,

It reminded her briefly of a special friend she had known, who was dead.

Sitting on the summit, in the bright sunlight, while sifting through her past,

The bird landed quietly on her shoulder, next to her neck, and fell asleep fast.

A few hours had past and it was time to say goodbye to this wonderful place,

The bird sensed this was it, once again pecked her lips and fluttered in her face.

She started down the mountain with tears in her eyes, said goodbye to the bird,

Descending as she cried, when the shrill of a hawk was annoyingly heard,

She hastened to get closer to the ground, as the sound grew loud and clear,

A hawk whose nest must be nearby was attacking her hands and her gear.

It was then that the little sweet bird, diverted the attack of the hawk,

Moving quickly, darting backwards and forwards away from his stalk.

In moments she reached the bottom and was free from the hawk's killing eye,

But the sweet little bird, had been knocked from the sky, and lay down to die.

She picked it up in her hands, kissed the small beak, laid the bird on the ground,

The bird uttered a sound, "As your friend, I"ll love you forever and always be around.