Boiling Beauties (after 'Starfish' by Eleanor Lerman)
This is what rain does
It takes you to the brink
brings you to your knees in the lake fully clothed oblivious
Your ever loving man
suspends a towel over you and your camera
Life gives you a photography course
Rain gives you 20 blank shots
You recalibrate
You your beloved camera towel again
Rain drenches all but head and camera
Whole generations of fish are summoned to stare
You wonder- is this a message?
and
What do rain drops look like from below?
You want to stand here forever
feel the melt on your skin
hear each plop
witness the bounce and sink of water on water
catch even one
More blanks
Are you old enough to appreciate this challenge? Too old?
You your amour camera towel again
Rain gives you propulsive pearls
elegant elusive
boiling beauties
This is what rain does
It lets your dank unworthy self
feel lucky not smart
Don't settle for lucky
You're already soaked
Get the shot
Float
I float on the lake classifying clouds
I’ve always felt I should fly
but in my dreams I’m doing the breast stroke
slowly laboriously
barely brushing tree tops
Earth bound restrained
I have skipped to my lou
split-vaulted to a red ribbon
cartwheeled in a perfect line
grew up to jetté on stage
met a glorious man and soared
But I’m just a gravity girl
who wants to be a bird
Like a fish in water
float is my fly
If Only Al Purdy Had Been a Swimmer
There was a call to submit
the residency required a plan
He had a house-the A Frame- and a lake
A lake!
I would swim at sunrise
have coffees by the shore
skinny dip at night
and write and write
You can't see the lake from his writing shed
but the pamphlet said he swam in Roblin Lake
while his wife Eurithe rowed beside him
Perfect! My plan would adore that lake!
Follow the water from café steam to household taps
Research hidden streams that fed the lake
Have a guided tour ending at the lake
Purdy's lake
I'd get the local swim club to write swimmy poems
Get a mic and video them reading in the lake
while their teammates sharked around them
There'd be a watery word relay or a splashy SLAM
The exit would be Esther Williams style
Watery poems would be gathered in a swimming chapbook
Photos of the event would reflect off the lake
Proceeds of the book would soak the local swim team
Oh the fun we could have
Oh the poets we could meet!
I went to the Open House I met Eurithe
I asked if Al liked to swim? she said,
"He wasn't much of a swimmer."
The kettle boiled dry The tub drained The water balloons burst
If only Al Purdy had been a swimmer!
Painting by Cynthia van Leeuwen
Artist extraordinaire
These Feathers
Two geese float
in blue brushed reflections
Murmur into a world
of their own language
They've separated from their V for now
that unoiled creak of family wings
It's quiet mid lake
far from the sproinging rattle of boats BBQs
and golf balls
The pair bob on mottled undulations
attuned to what lies below:
Freshwater jellyfish
brainless in their balloon and release
Failed lures Shells emptied of stories
Jewellery of lost importance
In this hushed sanctuary
the duo dip and listen
Glide in this still life
Slide on these inked words
Eventually they will rise to their line
to fly through starlight
But they are changed
One goose honks
Now two geese sing