My friend Lee, whose summer place is on Songo Pond in Maine, has given me permission to share the poem she wrote just the other morning--as perfect an end-of-summer poem as there could be, especially at the end of a summer filled with beautiful weather and deeply disturbing national and international events. Thank you so much, Lee, for "Last Swim of Summer."
The sun just up over the trees in the east
Seven AM
Not a soul on the lake
No motorboats, no disturbing wake
To throw your rhythm off while gulping water and air
No gaping kayakers paddling too close to the shore
Looking in at the outdoor shower
Sending us running for our towels
Not even happy sounds of summer swimmers
Splashing and jumping off their docks
Feels like velvet
Sun makes diamonds dance
on the surface
Cold water. Shivers and
shouts diving in
Fast start to warm up, then
reaching, reaching
Stretching arms as far and
deep as possible
Legs beginning the rhythm,
propelling
Like a porpoise, diving, resurfacing
Sun makes diamonds dance
on the surface
Cold water. Shivers and
shouts diving in
Fast start to warm up, then
reaching, reaching
Stretching arms as far and
deep as possible
Legs beginning the rhythm,
propelling
Like a porpoise, diving, resurfacing
Splashing, playing, gliding, laughing
Sun hot on face and body, water cold from
Depths below.
It’s a moment. Real. Is this realer than work,
Sun hot on face and body, water cold from
Depths below.
It’s a moment. Real. Is this realer than work,
Traffic, problems to solve, people to love or
Help or manage? World events?
No. But it’s great.
Help or manage? World events?
No. But it’s great.
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