The Old Swimming Hole

I imagine my receipts

Lifting from the drawer in front of me

Digits and decimals

Become marks on butterfly wings

 

The books I want to read

Seem to multiply each week

The pages become soil

Words bend like cattail and milkweed

 

I have places to go

And a list of things to do

But I'd rather watch the redtail

And share this place with you

 

The tempo is slow

Down at the old swimming hole

Where pondweed tickles and cushions the floor

Dragonflies and monarchs and swallows gently soar

There's an orchestra of frogs someday I'd like to join

And a moon that cues kingfishers and snipes

The tempo is slow

Down at the old swimming hole

 

Where a mirror on wall

Turns to a ripple round my feet

Distorted reflections

Fold below into a dark mystery

 

Where rustling on the edge

End the stirrings in my head

And the shimmer 'cross the water

Reveals a golden thread

 

I have places to go

And debt to pay

But I'd rather stay here

See what the clouds have to say

 

The tempo is slow

Down at the old swimming hole

Where pondweed tickles and cushions the floor

Dragonflies and monarchs and swallows gently soar

There's an orchestra of frogs someday I'd like to join

And a moon that cues kingfishers and snipes

The tempo is slow

Down at the old swimming hole