Club Poetico

I bimbi, di stupore vestiti,
                                                                          irrompono in grida cristalline
                                                                          contemplando la scia dorata.

                                                                          Sulla mole paglierina
                                                                          saltellano le ragazzine,
                                                                          e con sguardo malizioso
                                                                          ammirano estasiate
                                                                          i gagliardi giovanotti, arsi dal sole.

                                                                          Per la campagna piccole spighe
                                                                           solitarie e meste
                                                                          testimoni, sono, della folle mietitura.

                                                                          Ma sull'aia infuria la festa!

                                                                          Danzano sorridenti le vecchie contadine
                                                                          sulle note di una remota fisarmonica.

                                                                          E mentre i sorrisi inondano l'aia..

                                                                          al tramontar del sole,
                                                                          il profumo zuccherino
                                                                          impregna la campagna.