A journey...a spectacle...

Driving almost all the last ten miles
Feeling sleepy with Petre by his side
Snoring hard...
Francesco felt...
he needed a smoke...
So thinking
the mini truck
he sided...
Down they were gliding
Down a mountain...
Last night they had spent near
The dormant crater...
Samples they had collected in vials
he and his friend and guide Petre...

Now...
'i need a bit of adrenaline push
A smoke...'
Francesco thought...
Parking the car on the slope
putting it on both
Gear and handbrake...

Petre...
he was sleeping still...
The seat inclined fine...

Francesco stood
Leaning against the bonnet...
A sky...
Dark...
And a clear rounded white moon...
The sky...unobstructed by any thing...
From the mountain range
And the cutting
Looked dark and still clear
The moon...O dear...
She had lent enough light...
By his chronometer
It was only three fifty five...

The eastern sky he looked
A canvas developing...
The painter ...
He...
Might be preparing
His brushes and colors...
Francesco took his puff...

he waited...

At four five...
he knew He got started...

First a jet flew...
Across the eastern view
A thin sharp white line...
And then ...
By four fifteen
Things started changing...

He had started painting...
He...
The master art...
Ribbons of clouds..three
Appeared visible...
Three ribbons...
And soon
By four thirty...
Those ribbons were all pink and orange...
And in between those long wide bands
The blue color appeared with slight grey...
A day ...
It had started...

Francesco lit up his second cigarette...
'i need to wake Petre up...
he must see the spectacle...'
Thinking this
Keeping his eyes fixed on the sky
he knocked at the glass...
'hey Petre dear...wake up..kiddo...'
he said...
Impatient a little bit...

'the vials are at the back...
In trunk...if you them need...'
Came a reply...
Petre in his dreams ...in sleep
Thought of vials...

The sky...
Those pinkish orangy ribbons of cotton
Like took more colors...
They looked like colored cotton bands...
Yellow...
Orange...
Pink...
Blue...
Grey...
Light purple even...
'mio dio!
A spectacle...'
The moon
Staying still constant...
Had gone to sleep
Fading slow...
In the lap of a whitish snow
Like cloudy bed...
But that was another part...
Of the same sky...
And the east...
It was a feast
For eyes...

Exactly four minutes and five seconds...
The thing ran...
He had put his colors
And bands...
And snow...
And light...
And brush strokes...
And Peace...
And kindness...
And calm...
Into the canvas...

After that...
It started to fade out...
Two birds flew across...
Chirping...

And holy cow!
Petre had woken up...
he had come out...
Silent...
He was standing at the other side...
Reclined...
Francesco smiled...
Petre smiled back...

'hey...
Before we get into the car...
i think you need to call her...'
Petre...
Francesco's shadow told him...
Frances smiled...
he searched for his cell phone...
It was there...
In his pocket left...
Of his shorts...
The screen...
It appeared...
'there is no cell connection here...'
Frances told his friend Petre...

'no issue...
At the next stop
Where we would be having coffee...
You can always sit down
And write her a letter...'
Petre said...
Smiling...
Francesco laughed...
Loud...
And they got into the car...
'it must be mid day...
There at Port Alba...'
Francesco thought
As he fired the ignition...