White Birds, Blue Sky

Laying alone, naked in hot springs,
staring lazily at the sky,
a flock of silver white birds flies by.
Tracing a shifting V through the sky,
uncertain behind whom to fly;
unaware of the handful left behind,
themselves followed by more out of mind.
As many flocks as birds in the first,
the groups of silver follow in bursts.
The silver retreats to silent blue,
till one lonely bird at last pushes through.
Feeling alone and sorry for myself,
I sympathize with his desperate self.
Until another flock later flies by,
tracing a shifting V through the sky,
uncertain behind whom to fly;
unaware of the handful left behind,
themselves followed by more out of mind.