May 6, 2009 0
SWIMMERS
by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
At dawn on a breath-stealing day
we took coffee and chocolate milk
and mangoed oatmeal to wood chairs
by the creek. Our hair feathered
in the breeze like dandelion fluff
in the last swish of coolness
before the north wind fired up the valley.
An otter family tumbled sleek brown bodies,
splashed among rocks. Fish flicked silver
in the white sun of noonday.
As finches dipped beaks in a drying bird bath
three small boys yipped and shrilled
like parrots in the wild of the creekbank.
Flung water, smelly sneakers, deflated balls.
The western sun slanted apricot rays
through cottonwoods. Over the bridge
pedaled a mother and daughter in red helmets.
Just ...