And all around
The soft, mysterious stirring of dark velvet water
That makes no sound.
And here in the old Square
Life ... surging, swaying, sparkling everywhere,
As if it held at arms’ length waiting there
The sky and water and their mysteries.
But near me at a little table alone,
A red-haired, black-eyed woman broods and waits,
Gazing across the empty cups and plates.