Nytheone Matt

The deceptive perception of a town unstill
The monkeys watch from the perch of a well
Any inconsequential instant stirs a thrill
The flutter of a pigeon, the dong of a bell
The hill misleading itself, it’s a mountain
Painted in pines and varnished in dawn
Cheekies run head first into a fountain
Cyclists focus, bakers yawn
Yesterday bustling with visible energy
This morning the life is present but discreet
The clattering dishes, the chanting clergy
A fraction of walkers seen in the street
The glitter on the water almost tinkles
The stalls are up way earlier than required
Boats are scrubbed and lawns are sprinkled
Hangovers nursed, espresso admired