I touch the surface; it touches me, my finger.
The worry of water passes through me as laughter;
the whole world convulses and becomes still again.
And now I am aware of the world below,
the depth, the increasing murk, the blackness;
that otherness beneath my shimmering self.
In that sky I must be no more than a cloud;
remember the delicacy of this touch
and the eyes that watch my boat’s hull passing.
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