In the Freshwater Pool The season’s barely started, so the pool still shakes off casual swimmers, ‘though the sun heats up the surface. Two shy sparrows cool their dusty feathers at the edge, a run of ripples widening from their fuss and splashy glitter; building swallows slap and scoop the water just ahead of us; two hooded crows strut on the steps, and flap in drenched and serious unison. The sky is effortlessly cloudless, promising a brilliant tomorrow; swifts fly high and slice the screaming air with crescent wings. And here we swim, dissolving winter’s old ice-fingered grasp and bitter northern cold. D. A. Prince If you've any thoughts about this poem, D. A. Prince would like to hear them.