Here’s my contribution to this month’s poetry challenge. It began when Sandy and I were sitting close to the freshly covered pool, taking a short break before getting back to patio duty. The day was windy. Leaves from the maple tree were blowing across the sky blue cover and dancing on each new breeze. I thought I could see a slight undulation of the cover that gave an appearance of breathing.
Under leafy constellations
wheeling across a vinyl sky,
the pool rests. Its breast
rises and falls gently
as it recalls spring,
fresh pollen powdering its skin.
The pool remembers toads swimming
on balmy nights, looking for love,
skimming insects, scooping tiny drinks,
dragonflies darting like hawks,
doomed spiders tickling with thrashing legs
as they perished to their fate below.
The pool remembers water games,
churning feet, heels that hit bottom hard,
sparks of bright light when rubber
balls fractured the surface
and bright divots danced in the sun.
So many memories, enough to last
through cold, silent nights
below the vinyl heaven.
At peace, the pool settles
for the long wait till spring.
© by David L. Harrison
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