Poetry Pick


Kim Grove

Summer began with the first speck of distant blue
It would ignite
A carload children's chorus, chanting almost mechanically,
"I see the lake, and the lake sees me."
When the car finally stopped, to our parents relief
We'd disrobe to our bathing suits, jumping out of the old Duster
With such force that it's a wonder the doors didn't fall off.

We'd crash and splash into the cool water
Ignoring adult instructions, ignoring the sound of the whitecaps
As they chopped off the tops of waves
Tripping over each other.
We'd laugh.
As our white bellies no longer confined by a steamy hot car
Would feel the coolness trickle over us
Like a brook over the once dusty stones.

Our honey-coloured bodies would pop
Up like firecrackers, over the sand dunes
Tumbling and stumbling into somersaults
Rolling down the hill as if it were snow-covered
So light and small that we were like paper bags
Twisting in the wind
And we'd climb back up the hill.
Never tiring to do it over and over again
All summer.

From Handprints on the Future (Hidden Brook Press 2003)


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