Always after dark when the pool
floods with underwater light,
the very definition of aquamarine,
so that it feels like stroking through
turquoise.
Alone, there’s no need to stay in one lane,
which is fortunate since every summer
I must relearn how to pull and scull evenly,
especially on my back, so as not to torpedo off
at such an angle or bash into a wall, a step,
a railing arcing silver into the water. Even
in the pool my perennial klutziness manifests.
But after the annual reorientation of a land
mammal returning to a liquid state,
my laps straighten themselves out, body
memory taking over what the mind cannot
direct. From water we long ago emerged and
to water we return, especially at the end
of superheated summer days, to cool ourselves,
to switch off thinking, to float—blessedly float—
and find ourselves supported by something greater,
something simpler, always held.
Güd wrtr 
Lovely. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you, Gloria!
Oh my gosh…youâre not wearing a SWIMSUIT!
Ha! I am… it’s a public pool, but, you know, shadows!
Looks very peaceful, Jan. John can arrange rotating colored lights in our pool if you would like sometime!
Ooo! That’d be fun! Photo op for the Duck, too… Thanks, Marge!
Lovely!
Love, Mom
>
Thanks, Mom! You were right about putting 3-year-old me in the pool to begin… still in the pool 61 years later!