We asked for a map
but, as she accepts,
she gives us a compass,

not directions exactly,
but pointing the way to
more of what we hold

in our hearts—away
from fear and meanness
to y’all come and

everyone in the pool.
It’s summer, and she
makes us all welcome.

Here, she offers,
let me dab a bit of
sunscreen on your nose,

and you can do mine.
Then let’s make our
way to the edge, you

jumping in like a kid
loosed from school, me
sitting, feet dangling,

until I’m ready to enter.
All ways are good, she insists.
Kindness prevails.

We accept, as she does,
with grace and goodwill,
for isn’t summer our

treasured season of
warmth, of friendly water
beckoning to everyone?

Of hope?