Poetry for October 2017

Swimming on a Lake in 1955

Never one for speed, I swim across the lake

Slowly and full of heavy dreams, assuming

Somewhere at the back of my mind that a boat

Is following, and so stroke after stroke I swim

In the hot summer afternoon, time

Languid, and then I feel and smell the slime

Over the other shore, my feet entwine

In the weeds, only then noticing no one

At my back. The further shore is dense with bush,

So I turn back again to the lake and begin

Slowly my languid strokes, my dreams no longer dull

But alert to how far the journey is, how soon

The sun will be in decline, and wishing then

I would be one for speed.  My feet do not reach

The mud and slimy weeds.  My arms reach out

For the distant shore all too slowly and make

A signal to the unseen boat, the sleepy rower

Who must be somewhere floating on the lake.

Shadows begin to float past me heavily,

The horizon a silhouette of darkening hills,

As stroke by stroke I cross the water, no

Longer silent but heavy splashing, myself

A shadow of darkness creeping through the night.