It rushes cool
green lucent eye,
twirling smooth its carved stone socket,
bottom sand undisturbed
and dark nested leaves.
Only ripples stir the surface pane,
pale green under greener trees,
its dreaming iris black, open to the sky.
Some low comments thump
from rocky hollows.
I hesitate to jar
the whirlpool conversations.
Bees sip my clothes:
root beer, cinnamon,
tannin breath of desert,
and drone of insect wings.
I jump–body and living water,
cold bower, roots beet red,
my chilled creature open.
I pull out:
legs, buttocks, feet
sting, crackle sun-soaked rocks,
hair sticky, then dry smooth,
skin of downy silk.
Such joy in water,
antennas of happy blood.
Another urge hides in the sunny pool.
In the swirling catch it:
motion gives itself away–
life is generosity.
