I've been writing poems lately. I don't have a lot of history or experience with this, except for the odd haiku here and there. But I love reading poetry, and they are starting to come out of me, so there you have it.
I spent around 10 days at my parent's place in CT with my sons. We went to the beach a lot. CT is on the Long Island Sound, so we swam a bit, but mostly they fished. It was great fun for them. They caught snapper blues, mostly, though H also caught a sea robin. Have you ever seen one of these? They are intense! Very prehistoric. I loved watching them figure out their casting style, untangling lines, chatting up fellow fisher people. I hung out on the jetty with them, going out into the water to rescue errant bobbers and hooks. Here is the poem that came from these experiences. It is under construction, but I thought I'd put it out there for critique.
"Will you get the hook?"
You were squeamish about unseen crabs in the water.
I was 8 again, crouching on the barnacled rocks.
Later my toes bled from the sharp and slippery platform. I am a heroine
Released into the water. My younger body feels the thrill
Of warm water at top, chill below.
More fearless, not to be outdone by a girl,
You jump in – Another splash as your brother joins us.
The sun warms our shoulders as we wade,
Water waist-deep, the bobber our goal.
Swimming with you, when I’m 8, is precious.
I savour the salt on my lips, try not to forget.