by Vincent Frontero
At the Apex of the Transhumance
After Serafino De Tivoli’s Una Pastura, 1859
What a landscape this year has painted,
even as the head shepherd marches us closer to the edge.
If you’re anxious, Love says,
find shade and watch panic triggers drop
like barracuda teeth to the forest floor.
With the cows left to pasture,
we had time to examine the ghostly pine.
How the moss blankets our imperfections,
how the breeze bends into a requiem.
From up here, the region is full of wonder—
olive branches bursting into fire,
my arms, a road map
with an ocean to cut them clean.
Vincent Frontero (he/him) is currently an Instructor of English at the University of South Carolina Sumter. His poems and translations can be found in The Cincinnati Review miCRo Series, The Georgia Review, The McNeese Review, Los Angeles Review, and elsewhere. He received his MFA in Creative Writing from West Virginia University.
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