Summer In The Bay

The bay of Cascais is empty today no ships at anchors the sea azure and flickers of illusive gold coins sought by those who seek an endless summer. The town is oddly tame, from my vantage point I see swimming pools, they look as delicate, clear tears of a child who wanted to read clouds formation on a sky blue as the sea. He often looks up, sees elephants, castles and grazing sheep, today there is nothing but ennui, it makes him sad. He wonders if sky and sea once were one and was torn apart by a petulant god who wanted to swim, sail and fish for his own delight. Look, white clouds from the east, and afar he sees a Russian schooner sail into the bay, it has red sails and will cast anchor at sunset.