I never toe-squished from a rocky shore
To wade into a duck-and-water cover
That would salvage my muddy, sidestepping soul.
The Mississippi sun’s baptismal fire
Plunged me into chlorined, green-tiled bliss,
A state of grace fogging my plastic goggles.
This daily meditation ran long and lean,
Broken by 32 concrete-grazed flip turns,
The wake of steadily churned whip kicks,
And, in the instant of breath pop-ups,
Poolside yacks and kids’ shrill thrills in the shallows.
Polka dots snowed my slick nylon Speedo—
Oh, for the cloudy sound of life underwater!
Daily Post Prompt: Immerse
Categories: Poetry
Catherine Hamrick
Soul deep storyteller, poet, copywriter, and editor with a passion for wordplay, gardens, literature, and the South
“A state of grace fogging my plastic goggles” beautifully describes the way in which swimming blurs away the incessant glare and chatter of the world. I can’t even see the clock on the pool wall. Water takes you off the grid–it is the enemy of the grid.