| In the
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.