In Firenze, we stayed
in wonderful upstairs
sun-washed rooms
with a marble bathroom
not the kind that is glued
on wood over drywall
but the kind that was built one
fitted stone at a time on
the limestone base of the city
a quarter millennium ago.
Across the piazza
apartments are fitted
casually into the remains
of the Roman aquaduct.
Our home here in Canada
is almost as old
as I am: depression era
it is three-score
and ten this year
and the rooms
of our two storey house
are painted plaster
with a masonry bathroom
not the kind that is glued
on wood over drywall
but the kind that reflects
little earthquakes
with little showers of plaster
that have required
the installation of a
white wondrous tin ceiling
an art deco impression
which we can enjoy
while soaking in the tub
or in other moments of
contemplation that lead to the
consideration the we live in a
frontier society of facades
that will succumb
to the return of wildflowers
sooner rather than later.
