ninna nanna *

My mother sang me lullabies

of flowers blooming through the year

and donkeys pulling painted carts

along Sicilian mountain sides

her voice a tremolo

of longing and pain

in her peasant dialect

rough and secretive

as santo stefano’s hills

(from where she came)

I sing them to my grandchildren

as best as I recall

most lyrics lost to memory

but melodies unbroken

nostalgic with my joy

in dialect I begin

as they smile

songs of ciuri di tutto l’ano**

and sciccarieddrus*** pulling bright carretti****

along sicillian mountain sides.

*lullabye in Itallian

** flowers the entire year

***donkeys

****sicillian carts

Food not flowers

In the spring thawed ground

My father always planted foods

Never daffodils or tulips

The colour green,red and black

Were the constant theme

Green beans, rabba, zucchini, peppers

Red tomatoes, San marzano and heirloom

Black sicillian melenzani

The colours of his sicillian zappaturi past

Red for the blood of his family

Black for the mourning of departures

Green for life to continue and grow

Flowers were for songs

And the landed idle rich

Whose tables were never bare

Not for men with families to care.