Red Triangles, Diamond Days

A red triangle of terracotta
Seems to hang over the water,
And palm tree stars with twenty points
Rise up to the blue, and it anoints
Their flight, for as well the day
As the night. And yet, and yet it may
Well be, but still I see a square
Where someone is drying their hair
Over a balcony.
Vive la compagnie,
And yellow rectangles are sun beds,
And turquoise hexagons, parasols for our heads.
Black triangles, goal frames,
A misshapen circle retains
The steely blue of the pool’s waters,
On which floats a volleyball sphere
(And also a figure of eight),
And tries to control it, but falters,
While yet it manages to diffuse
That blinding, soaring disc of light
That could almost be a Spartan shield.
The all-embracing ray
Transmutes this scene into a diamond day.

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