Seasons
I swim in a ship turned turtle,
timbers above arched and braced, nautically;
in place of keel, fourteen panes of glass,
a window on the world.
timbers above arched and braced, nautically;
in place of keel, fourteen panes of glass,
a window on the world.
Leaves of beech and birch lie there –
fly up and fall, spangling the panes.
A gust and they dance again.
A kaleidoscope in bronze and gold.
Now the sky is purest blue,
the pool reflected clear.
The water ripples. Then I see
diamonds strewn on blue velvet.
Vapour trails dissolve in rags;
birds fly high, winging westward
on some mysterious mission.
A slash of rain streaks the panes.
Blinded by the risen sun
I turn, and think of Hockneys.
A grampus now, but supine,
I can blow a rainbow.
We used to go for early morning swims in the pool at Willersley Castle Hotel. I swam on my back throughout the year and noted what I saw in those 14 glass panes. I really did blow rainbows in summer!
We used to go for early morning swims in the pool at Willersley Castle Hotel. I swam on my back throughout the year and noted what I saw in those 14 glass panes. I really did blow rainbows in summer!
