It took only a little while to fold your books into mine.
Some titles we shared, in the same editions
Now no one looking at my row of spines,
Two falcons appear in the trees outside my window; the parkís promenade is their winter hunting ground.
In the afternoon, against the backlit river,
The other perches on a branch above, waiting.
No one else could hold forth with such verve,
It was like the falconís headlong plungeó