orte

we rode an hour north by train to grey, stone Orte

built high atop a hill in 1300 and still intact

on quiet turning, odd angled streets the gentle bus man

told us of a restaurant just off the main piazza

each step revealed a scene to paint or photograph

the eating spot was quiet, provincial and well appointed

in a tired, sophisticated country way

we each had different tasty local pastas with red wine

after, coffee at a traditional bar, filled with locals

then took refuge in a somber old shelter built in a wall

and awaited ten minutes for the local bus

then caught a train in the rain back to roma