And as the sun set, rain
from a clear-ish sky,

everything softening,
on the lake a convoy

of geese, lines of goslings;
we sat under umbrellas

meant for the sun, waited
for the rain to ebb;

construction workers
with headlamps on

steered an aluminum boat
through the skeleton of pylons;

the new bridge half done;
I’ll move long before it’s

finished. I know nothing is
forever. Nothing is forever.

Nothing is forever, but
sometimes I wish it was.