MONDAY: Champagne Pond, Hawai’i


Dianne Korchynski considers herself fortunate to be from Winnipeg. Copyright rests with the author.

They keep their young alongside them
for years,
twelve, sixteen, maybe twenty years.
They swim and dive
and play
banging rocks together — “Which is louder?” he tests,
“Above? Or below?”
this clear and blurry mix
of salt and fresh water.
More than water, an enveloping matrix
beautiful enough to loosen my fear
(irrational I’m told) of being swept out
with this current, out
past the lava reef.
You don’t fight the tide — at least I don’t —
I say, a little grimly,
without fins and snorkel,
mask and mantras.

Mother and son
are unencumbered
by all this

“What about now? Can you hear it now?”
“Listen deeply.”
No. You’re too far away.
You try.
“I can hear it perfectly.”

Back and forth, testing, testing, until the mother,
dark hair flowing, turns smoothly,
issues a gentle order:
His light young body
glides after her.

Sept. 09/2011/2012

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