What I saw today in Aix and what I saw then on the shores of the Thingvallavatn

Trousered and heavy-shod
she walks on,
shirt caught in her crotch,
unaware, unbeautiful.

Red-clad and winged,
that other one,
walking high
on sable sands,
wuthering shores,
planting her beautified prints,
swift, far, Icelandic, light-headed.