Todi

I had to trust the bus would come.
Wagering a cappuccino at the top
of the hill in Todi against the odds
that the driver would make the winding
trip in time to meet my train below,
I found faith in regional Italian transit, but
then, at worst, a night outside that round,
quaintly arrogant cathedral in only a slight
November chill, could have been serene.
Only wager what you would lose, that
is how agnostics kneel.