A nomad disavows 

the calendar leaves, 

a passenger of destiny, 

wearing wings that drip

wax, follower of

the seasons and the sun, 

just like the swallow

that perches long enough

to make its presence felt, 

yet waves its pennant

of farewell before

clouds of candyfloss

can part, and let

an albatross demand

pride of place 

round its neck, and

penance from its heart.