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In later paintings--
a Brueghel, a Dali--
a hill could also be a breast
grazed by clouds, the breast
of a woman lying on her back
facing heaven. But in this painting
by the Osservanza Master
(about whom nothing is known,
not even his real name)
the hill is just a hill
beneath an arch of cirrus,
although it swirls like cream
to a soft peak, although it hides
a distant church blushing in the dusk.
I love this painting,
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