By the Lake
He was waiting, sitting
by the lake
watching the gray
water ripple and flow,
the slow wind pushing it
steadily away from the shore.
A sign on a tree by the bank
warned in black and red:
NO SWIMMING
SWIMMING CAN CAUSE ILLNESS.
His mind drifted
back to that hot summer day
when, after work, his dad
first took him swimming,
to the creek on the way to Mammoth,
just a short ride from home.
The creek ran through a field
behind the Klayka's house and barn
and they had to chase
the cows out of the stream
when they got there.
He watched his father
strip down to his shorts,
the dark green Army ones,
and he did the same,
just leaving their clothes in piles
on the bank above the creek.
His father dove in
and came up backwards
near the opposite side,
sliding slow and smooth and easy
through the brown water.
He ran,
holding his nose,
mouth clamped shut,
his right arm flailing the air,
and jumped,
feet hitting
the mucky bottom,
and sprang up,
head and shoulders popping
out of the water,
water flying all around him,
light exploding
in his eyes.
The water was warm
but it felt good
there in the stream
with his father
that hot summer day.
Copyright © Len Solo | Year Posted 2005
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