Sketches from Corfu

The beach is a silver haze.
Emerging from a pool of light,
a big golden dog wades into the shallows,
and stands there a while. I can't see well,
but I think his eyes are closed.

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Twenty minutes before the sunset,
the only person in the sea
is a man floating in the bronze,
and copper, and mauve. He walks out
naked, slowly puts his shorts on,
then breaks into a run. For a second,
it seems he'll never stop, and the sun
will never go down.

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Once I go in, I never feel like going out.
The water is balmy, with just enough salt
to make you lick your lips hungrily.
I move minimally, and can't get enough
of the thick dark-green trees on the shore.
When I look down, the sunlight streams in,
and I see my shadow, a giant frog
skipping on the bottom.