A Passing

Here is something I wrote early in my transition:

Passing

A path of fire ripples

roiling from the opposite shore.

Rays of sunsets descend

through mirrors.  Long boats are crossing

reflections too bright to be seen

leaving the sun behind them.

Clouds curl like smoke.  Ripples

reflect breezes across this river.

A wide boat is turning.

Paths of fire are flickering away.

A barge’s wake spreads the twilight.

                                                       

                                                           2 June 2005