at a cabin by Rimrock Lake

Hard breeze swept across the lake
whispering through the pines
swaying great high boughs of spruce
demanding endless pirouettes
from giggling aspen leaves

He skipped, this grandson, a half mile
up the road, or was it down,
to watch daredevil young people
jumping feet first from the bridge
that spanned the river pouring
melted snow into the lake from
ice fields of haughty Mount Rainier

He vicariously shared the thrill of
the leaping divers - no, not diving -
the sign proclaimed no diving
so they jumped in feet first
there was a camaraderie
in just watching, he snapped
a picture to commemorate the joy

Responding to the shouting he ran
to a shallow place to test
the temperature of the water
not daring to jump off the bridge
he could at least go swimming
in the cove of the river where
the current seemed quite placid

Testing the water with toes then ankles but deeper still the temperature
was reflective of the snowmelt and so chilling that it numbed the knee caps and his breath sucked to change
his thinking - now not the best
time for swimming

Oh the bright weeds, paint brushes
Judy called them and
common mergansers wearing
roman charioteer helmets
looking wary and alert beside
dead floating logs guarding shoreline from wake of water skiers

Herded by prevailing westerlies
heavy flotsam hovered
against the eastern shore
undulating like beating hearts
swelled his heart with contentment

Naomi Sherer