Another poem

I love this season, and when, literally out of the blue, you are blest with a surprisingly warm day with a cloudless sky in mid November. It's naturally Heaven sent.
Here particulary, in this hidden, Italian haven, a tiny paradise in a mad world.
Autumn always brings on nostalgia. Contemplating the long shadows, the thoughts flash through one's mind like the sunlit, golden leaves.

Europe is a beautiful continent. So rich and divers in culture and geography. So steeped in history. Old and mellow like a fine, rare wine found in a cellar full of history and cobwebs. But can one say that those who pretend to represent Europe have the stature to assume the responsibility?

Without wishing to harp on about the famous 'agenda' that most people still shrug off as yet another conspiracy theory, despite the total lack of coherent explanation as to what is being imposed, how can the EU seriously pretend to represent and defend the interests of Europe when it seems to be going out of its way to do exactly the opposite?

The reactions are evident, and not limited to Europe, because the 'agenda' is naturally 'global'. But instead of attempting to reverse the process in order to regain the confidence of the people the establishment claims to represent, it derides those who understandably have serious doubts about it. The EU demonstrates its disdain. The Visegrád Group who oppose the irresponsible imposition of migrants and care for the safeguard of their culture and the security of their people, are virtually treated as fascists. In fact the EU trend seems to be, that anyone who dares show any hint of patriotism, is more or less labelled a Nazi. The Brexit decision is cursed, and ridiculous assertions are made as if the UK will become a worm eaten, old carp dying a horrible death after the oxygenised, pristine waters of the EU will be cut off.

In contrast to the ever welcome, brave new world, Muslim migrants who can do no wrong, Trump and Putin are considered the 'elite', arch-enemies of EU progress.
One can, however, seriously question the objectives of the EU. Even without trying to pin the club down in doing so.
Without considering the constant negative consequences in Europe, how can the EU and all those engaged in the incoherent process of imposing immigration where it is not wanted or needed, blindly continue the experiment knowing full well that it is causing the deaths of many thousands of would-be migrants from North Africa? All ending up at the bottom of the Mediterranean for the sake of a merkelian illusion.
Isn't that alone, enough to make one want to disassociate oneself from such cretinous, cynical ideologues?

Simple people who grow their own vegetables and make their own wine and olive oil each year, have far more confidence in nature than in the pompous, political pantomimes that go on in Brussel and elswhere.
There's young Macron proudly strutting about the world eager to be acclaimed as the divine saviour of the planet. He will cure climatic abnormalities and pave the way to glorious globalism. He seems to think it's all an easy banker's trick.

Of course, the old men in their gardens have seen it all before. They sadly smile as they store the last, still green tomatoes in their cellars, knowing that they will redden. They never talk about things of no importance. They are wiser than that. They have confidence in nature and Providence. For them each year tells its own story, like another beautiful poem.

Text and images © Mirino. November, 2017