Tap, tap, tap, a knock on the door,
Who can it be now, a believer?
It has been quite some time in between
That the entering wish finds expression.
Caring less than before about the rules
The ins and outs of possibilities
For staying or being turned away,
Shunned from the very land of promise.
Must we perforce calculate the risks?
Shall we cause a minor panic in stocks,
Make a killing by misleading the flocks
To run headlong into a swimming pool?
But there are such things that overcome
The surface gleams of fame and fortune;
In that one place we can call home
Inside a sphere we call 'local flavour'.
Bevagna, 30 July 2016
