The Swimmer

Her lithe body stretched in half,

bisected, torso to toes

and upright again.

Effortlessly she tucks 

her wild dark hair

beneath an azure rubber cap,

as if hiding a bonfire

beneath a mossy log.

Sizing up the ocean,

she steps unflinching

into the depths

of the cold green sea.

Undeterred by the

pursed purple lips

of her elderly counterparts,

she submerses herself

without hesitation.

Resurfacing only to slap and crawl

through the glassy turquoise water.

Slap. Glide. Breathe.

Slap. Spin. Turn...

And I watch, I learn,

I admire her.

I counted twelve laps,

but it could've been more.

As she flicks her feet

and begins breast-stroke,

her legs curl.

And as if transformed,

become as nimble as a frogs,

caught within the rapture

of an elemental force.

By Mia L Hart 2011