That the world moves, the moon is still visible,
that dawn mist rises from dark calm 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 ripples, gold on the lake attends her.

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

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