This sonnet originally appeared in Vol. 20 of The Rialto Books Review
Beside the Tiber’s ancient twisting course,
Stands Nature’s own cathedral, land man wrought
Beneath the hill of Janus, potent force
Beginning Nature’s end of man’s true thought.
A wood shaded and vast, umbrella pines,
Hundreds and more neat columns in a clear,
All else dares not compete, that line for line
Support the soaring needled roof, that tier
Where eagles nest amid the gentle sough
And starlings murmur higher still above
The tow’ring forest’s spreading fractal boughs,
That gilded canopy the sun so loves.
I, reverent in mind and soul, there stay
And awed before high Nature’s altar pray.
Very relaxing to read in both mind and body