They must be golden tipped boughs now
touching the water top, out at the bay edges,
Where soft water invites you in,
Skin is made into silk there under lake water
Like otters we dived under
becoming wild again.
Madeleine has not learned to swim on the silver surface,
She tirelessly jumps in again and again
Only a second to take her new breath between each dive,
Her natural confidence surprises me and pleases the mother in me.
The lake is mirror still but for us
and a ripple from beneath the tallest Bull rushes.
Far out beyond us swans are white specks
in the reflection of stormy blues, moving quickly into heavy greys.
The rain is hanging there, almost here.
But, The thunder rolls.
We can feel it in our bones, Its a sensory superfluity now,
first raindrops on our faces, and silver circles break the surface.
We crouch in the water, I am on my knees
Our fingers entwined beneath.
The water nestles around our shoulders
we watch this vista soundlessly waiting.
The laiden sky gives in
We have got a soaking
laughter resounds across the way and up the hills
through the greens
We turn, splash, run, wade our way back, stirring it all up
Pulling my legs up against the weight of water
And holding hands we yip and yell like animal calls
finding our voices again
Lightning cracks when we reach the grassy shore
Under the hawthorn trees our clothes are still wet through
summer rain warm with chills
I look back to the hills, a glance
From the forest I stand with rose hips in my hands
and one acorn, I have disturbed a red squirrel that scampered here
A dash in brilliant auburn red, a flash of autumn
up a beech, till high enough to safely stare back at me
In his utter stillness I halt, then
Wood pigeons flurry and fly overhead, dead branches fall
Its a hundred days since summer swimming wild
In this portal of earth change, I turn to the direction of the bay to smile.
Thankyou dear reader xxx E