The pope stands by the sea. The wind lifts a white skullcap from his head.
The most visible emblem of authority has no defense against the weather.
The wind bears neither malice nor reverence.
As the cap drifts away, something certain is quietly unsettled.
The wind got there first.
For a moment, identity loosens its hold.
He stands in the wind, like anyone else by the sea,
gently touched by the world.