A few fishing jumping, everywhere
The busy world busy ending. The wisdom
Of the foolishly solitary is the starting
Out from such sweet sorrow to reach
Home more swiftly, more easily. The rest,
Like the fish, jump for catch as catch can.
It's not that anyone lives alone, certainly
Not with so many voices in our heads
And so much longing for someone
Else's help to make our beds. We are not
Independently dependent, but we are.
Time to ignore the couple in the canoe,
Towel off on the rocks among detritus
And go home to face or at least to discuss
The distinction between what's real and true.