Wednesday, March 08, 2006
A Morning Swim
by Donovan Baldwin
The morning air was softly warm.
No, not warm, but not cold either.
Soft with the fog which hung there
Before the sun was fully risen,
Ending the world with a curtain of gray,
Only a few feet away.
I slipped down to water,
Rippling softly against sand,
Stripped off my clothes and cares,
And slid naked into the bay,
While a disapproving heron watched
From the edge of the fog.
The water there was too shallow to swim,
But I quietly splashed about,
Reveling in the freedom,
The feel of sand, water, and air
As each brushed my goose-bumped body.
In less than ten minutes,
I had returned to my bicycle,
And, with my clothes,
Put back on my true identity
And pedalled off into the day,
Leaving Mr. Heron with a story to tell
Of the strange bird HE saw.
Published: The Advocate 4/26/96