Some solitude or other

Without the swan or the dock

Mirrors its obsolescence

Given that I abdicate 

Here from the loud boasting

Not to be touched

Whose hand a sky so multicolored

With the gold of sunset 

But languorously goes along

Like the white linen taken off

Such a fleeting bird itself plunges

She who exults nearby 

Into the wave you become

Your bare jubilation

03/22/08