Opera In the Park

It’s cotton sleeves and naked shoulders, since the balmy southern evening’s close and warm. “Aida” underneath the stars tonight! Bassoons and oboes, eager to perform, are practising brief runs. The moon is huge against umbrella pines, and tiny bats are flickering, silent in the smooth mauve sky. Italian stewards, nature’s diplomats, escort the pretty women to their seats. Expensive perfume lingers in the air. Coquettish earrings glitter fetchingly, their wearers feigning sang froid (but aware!) These Roman nights! Life is so gracious here. To live like this – who’d ever want to die? Ars longa, vita brevis. Raise a beer. Tonight, Rome is eternal. So am I.