White are our calves in the ocean at the beginning of the holidays. You were wearing a sailor's bonnet. Your little dog was biting at the waves. I was throwing pebbles into the open sea. Today's memories of ours skim and bounce.
Night falls, damp with rumours.
Gusts of wind blow out the trees. The sky opens its bird's heart. It draws to a twinkling close. Then I undertake to write a little stronger about what keeps silent. My blood's slower and the dying is less acrid in my throat.