Her hand dipped lazily into
the fountain.
Cloud shadows drifted over the square,
shading tourists and children.
Summer was yielding to fall.
Orange and yellow drinks, wide
brimmed hats and tables with lovers
settled into a mild afternoon.
The woman at the fountain looked up,
shielding her eyes like Cleopatra observing
a desert of endless sands.
Droplets resembling diamonds fell from
her hand.
It was a moment between breaths.
The clouds parted, shadows vanished
and so did she.
Roger Singer 