Tuesday, November 8, 2016

Lake Bath

Lake Bath

My skin it sheens,
unsoaped, unclean.
But the clouds they block
my will to walk.

The day spins onward.
A push to wander:

“To the lake,” she cries.
“Leave the tent behind.
I’m not wild of mind or anything like;
just unwilling to spend another night,
unwashed and ripe.”

So I find my courage -
“To cleanse and to nourish!”
we shout to the skies and
into water we dive.

And we bathe and we holler
And our will doesn’t falter
Till our hides are scrubbed,
dried and rubbed.


And after, with laughter,
We recall our endeavor –
The time an ancient crater
was met by wayward bathers.

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