Bathing strictly prohibited
‘Bathing strictly prohibited,’ it said
on signs along the shore.
He felt his skin lighten beneath his shirt
and one toe touched bare rock.
The landscape shimmered, floated in the waves,
coots ascended lapping hills;
the sun watched, with patience, from behind clouds
and the earnest sparrows sang.
A solitary fishing boat stood out,
holding the world at bay.
He loosed his belt and let it drop – it fell;
his thighs embraced the air.
The brutal wind, which had been waiting, woke;
ospreys rose and scanned for prey.
May blooms shivered and scattered in the breeze
and wide-eyed lambs looked on.
Around the bend, a gang of cyclists came
brakes screeching, making hay.
He unbuttoned his shirt, drew one deep breath,
and plunged into the bay.
I’ve been walking and cycling around Rutland Water, and imagining a first act of rebellion maybe (for Poets United).
Risk and resolution. Nice write.
well done piece..
You paint the scene so well, I can se the ospreys lifting off the water……..lovely.
I love acts of rebellion – especially the non-destructive sort
I could feel the excitement building as I read through your words.
Words which would work wonderfully with some great racy music!
YOUR words framed quite a scene; the imagery at first reminds me of my New England roots. I miss the osprey and the rocky shore, the stillness in the mornings bay~ Well Done~
link a free verse to poets rally week 42 today, you rock.