There's No WiFi at the Bottom of the Ocean

I'm pocketing pebbles along the shore

Of my sultry lake

Circling my private sea 

Where there is absolutely no WiFi

When a breeze follows through the fugue 

And whirls up the dust in the corners

Of my mind to beautiful ancient dances

Muted by their multitude.

With my painted stones I'll be

Wading for the next happy wind 

Or lukewarm love.