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.

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