Lucania by Rocco Scotellaro

The screeching of crickets is always with me,
and the tinkling bell on the neck
of a restless goat.
I am bound by the wind
in weightless silver ribbons.
Up there, lost in the clouds’ shadows,
lies a Lucanian village, in its tiny fragments.
http://www.mptmagazine.com/author/rocco-scotellaro-3933/