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One of the smallest of Cagli is escorted to the piazza on the hand of his Padre.  The gleam of his father’s eyes met with the look of familiarity in the gentlemen companions he was meeting for the evening.  The glimmer of light in the eyes of his curly haired, young son met with the pigeons that were joining on the piazza as well.  They both had arrived to discover their evening pleasures and to be ever watchful of each other.

Many gentlemen gather at the piazza- more so than women it appears.  A long line of historical looking characters line the wall of the clock tower building as if they hold the past, present and future of Cagli in their minds and conversations.  Then there are the connoisseurs who come to dine on the gelato, take in the action of the square and to remain aware of the Caglian weekly events and visitors.  The padre that has come to visit with his son appears to be of a grouping that comes to consult with one another about their affairs.  As little Cagliani plays across the way, his padre converses intently with a finger alongside his cheek and his chin resting in the palm of his hand.  Occasionally, he bends down to lean his ear closer to listen more intently.  Those around him are demonstratively painting a conversation with their hands and facial expressions.  The pigeons fluttering about their feet are hardly even noticed.  Padre looks up often to check on his playful son, keeping in mind that there is something else more precious to him than even conversation.

Young Cagliani spins around the light post.  Tonight it is his fire pole, an imaginary playmate, or perhaps like in Jack in the Beanstalk….a path to the clouds.  It is mesmerizing his fancy tonight and keeping him safe from the busy vehicle traffic of the square.  He watches the pigeons fly from the ground to the many hidden roosts in the buildings towering above.  As he leans back to watch them, he contagiously smiles and giggles.  Perhaps he knows why the pigeons hide in quaint little roosts like the people of Cagli hide behind beautiful doors…and only come out to the piazza for fellowship.

 

 

               

                                                                                                                                                ~Anna K. Kiser

                                                                                                                                                Cagli, Italy

                                                                                                                                                June 29, 2009~

 


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