Stop signs in Rome being taken under advisement only.

Lollipop trees in soldier-file lining the ridge of a distant hill?

Mario Andretti at the wheel of every car our driver passes.

Distant fields of soft-yellow stubble beside the living green?

Later, a mountain pass, two lanes of traffic divide into three.

If in rocky mountain side, a tree will grow anywhere apparently?

I’ll miss the splatter of rain,
shaped like an umbrella,
falling all around the statue
formed by a life-size figure
replete with French name.

& I’ll miss another chance
for a quick, spirited kick
of myself for the failing
(of talent or will, U pick)
to frame a perfect dance.