Across the bay
the fairy gold of Positano
gleams and winks in the morning glow of sun,
divided by the plunge of cliff and gulley,
arches, towers, domes and pastel villas,
stacked like ornaments on shelves, against the ancient rock.
Out of its shining hub, scattered satellites
of hotels, churches, farms nested in terraced olive groves,
climb the slopes
on roads gouged from the glowering crags.
Far off, beyond the dwindling peaks,
in the ochre-grey distance,
Capri's three towers stand against the sky.
The sea between
marked by pale currents.
Boats that will cut the mirror surface with their noisy wake
now lie at rest below the calm town.
Impatiently, the coast is conquered.
The Sorrento bus comes through,
busy with early morning workers,
its klaxons echoing through the route.
They take for granted, as no tourist does, the coast road,
surveyed, cut, held firm by Roman spans of deep clefts,
over the dizzy plunges to unforgiving rocks and deep green coves,
through tunnels sounding with their nasal songs,
past whorls of cliffs flayed of their grey cracked skin,
under the towers, ribs and claws of the uncaring mountains,
past the dreaming towns, towards Amalfi's battlemented port.
Janice Windle
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/italian-collection-view-of-positano-from-praiano/
