That the world moves, the moon still visible,
dawn mist rises from still lake waters does
not matter to the swimmer. She swims
surrounded by the gold of sun’s first light.

In the spotlight, her place alone,
the displacement of her passage,
marked by the V of her wake, adorned
with gold ripples on her lake, attends her.

Soon there will be boats, jet-boats towing
skiers, children on rafts who will fly by giggling.
Canoes, sail-boats, pontoon boats, bathers, paddlers —
there will be rivers of gold across the lake —

but now, alone with the Sun, lake steams still cold,
she swims in glory and she swims in gold.