Uncontained

Uncontained - 1000.jpg
 

Each time she slips
into your realm
and glides
through the cool stillness,
she surrenders to your support.

She is following the rocks
I’ve tossed from the shallow edge
as they fall out of
the sky
and break through the plane
where air and water meet.

Gravity yields to buoyancy—
there is no hurry here,
each rock descending
in its own time
to the welcoming depths below,
as she paddles out to where they dropped in.

She is not contained by the lake that holds her,
nor are they, nor you.

You move freely with life
as it carries you along.

When she comes back to shore,
she brings you with her,
exuberantly scattering prisms of light
across the solid ground
that has been too long
without rain.

Too close for escape
I clench, draw in—
defending with a gasp against
the shock
of cold water on warm skin,
and I am invited to open,

while the earth
patiently
waits
for her next foray into the lake,

the sky offers safe passage
to another rock thrown,

and you await the joy of her return.