The days are getting shorter, I observe —
the summer heat that makes me flap a magazine like a fan, lasting 2–3 hours.
I feel the enchanting song of crickets and cicadas in August, deafening with the setting sun and gentle as a lullaby in the evening —
It’s funny how I have heard it suddenly.
Submerged as I am by a world of sounds,
it is the last discreet signal that the season of my nostalgia —
is becoming something different.
In the villages of my valley, September is the month par excellence for
festivals and fireworks.
The night goes boom, filled with light and colours.
A last snapshot of a magical time that nobody
wants to say goodbye to
that cannot be stopped.
This is the story of a duck that flew south in the fall,
I know very well because Pocket Coffee chocolates disappear from the shelves of the checkout counters in supermarkets when the ducks fly away.
The coffee-filled pralines are an all-Italian delicatessen that will reappear
in spring, like ducks.
I live in a country village that I love for its 360 ° horizons that open up onto sunrises, sunsets —
or passing high-flying planes going to or from Bologna airport.
And in autumn, onto flocks of ducks forming that unmistakable inverted V shape, flying in perfect synchrony like the…
I like to write creatively,
but I’m a practical person.
For this reason, finding myself in a difficult situation in evolution,
I decided to go to a civil lawyer, already
several years ago.
He knows a lot about me and the situation.
He invites me to continue writing and to continue to cultivate my interesting and particular passions,
For more than two years, I have been meeting with a psychotherapist approximately every two weeks, delivering written reports on the events of the previous 15 days.
Reports I usually write straight away, without contradictions even after months.
It’s me Haiku Poetry