The angler knows the stream, exactly where to cast the line. The fish in turn suspects what offers food disguises danger though it's urged to search the spot. The two engage in grueling fights, dead baits don’t care who dies. The eagle soars above the peaks, from there the glen can be embraced, her sight detects and surveys tiny preys so far below but she just follows till she's sure. No rage or rush. No raptor looks as cold and wise. Off-season hot winds lay the plateaus bare, the ice and snow are gone, no shield protects the upper slopes, so many cracks will grow. The mountains trapped inside life’s turning page are crumbling while the sickened valley cries. The tireless dance goes on while shades prepare to shroud the hall. The guiding light defects, the beaten footpaths fade, no signs will show. Eternal peace and no more war to wage. At last no need to tell the truth from lies. And all along I range, I sit, I stare, among what's bright and what's obscure, affects my brains, impedes my stride, becomes my foe. I want that soothing grass to be my stage, the finite prairies under boundless skies. Alessio Zanelli is an Italian poet who writes in English and whose work has appeared in over 150 literary journals from 13 countries. His fifth original collection, titled The Secret Of Archery, will be published in 2019 by Greenwich Exchange (London). For more information please visit www.alessiozanelli.it.