When he was eight
and already a little fish
born to the water,
I put him in a life jacket
he protesting such restriction
but then guided him to swim
with me away from shore
and all the bloated floating toys,
yelling kids, and his worried mother
slowly toward the middle of the lake
where sandy bottom drops to black
and the very air becomes rarefied
by sweet rippling breezes.
 
We floated on our backs
watching crooked-winged gulls
and ospreys piercing the clouds
then dove so near we could feel
the thrill of descent then a clownish
cormorant that surfaced and dove
again and again when he called it
‘Cordy-Duck’ and us laughing
with no one else but the birds to hear.
 
My wish this gift:
for him to always know such joy;
the freedom to leave when he must
the exacting constrained earth to find
peace
where the water meets the sky.


© by Carol Amato.
Used here with the author’s permission.