The Pond

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The joys of swimming in a pond.

Submitted: July 24, 2016

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Submitted: July 24, 2016



I plunge into the pond.

Skimming over rocks, I'm on the move--

my cumbersome body zooming as a fish.

The shore recedes vasty with each

powerful thrust.

On my back, I make like a frog.

I gaze upward and laugh.

The sky is my map--white crescents

rimmed by the sun; points of firs the markers.

I'm an arrow, a bullet, a deer of the water.

My arms reach forever; my legs scissor, unbounded.

I sputter and choke in my foam;

the gentle burn of my eyes is welcome.

No plastic ropes streamline me;

no knocks of colliding bones,

or hooking of arms and legs.

No whistling shepherds guard me.

I feel cool and smooth, caressed by water and slime.

My aim is to reach the far shore.

My mind is spread.

I am one with the water.

© Copyright 2019 Godfrey Green. All rights reserved.

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