pond

NO SWAN CAME.

Yehudit walked with me
in the woods
and sunlight pushed
through the branches

 

of trees overhead
birds sang
a rabbit rushed off
through the thick

 

undergrowth
she wore
the dark green skirt
and white blouse

 

school had ended
for the holiday
wonder if our swan
is there

 

she said
reminds me
of the Wagner opera
I liked the way

 

the sunlight
lit up her hair
as she walked
tints of dark brown

 

and light brown
a hair grip
held in place
unruly bits

 

Lohengrin
she said
that's it
that's the opera

 

she had undone
the green school tie
the collar loose
the tie untidily

 

pulled away
neck showed
last time
we saw it

 

at the lake
(the name
she called
the pond)

 

we sat and kissed
and you put
your hand
up my skirt

 

she said
where the blouse
was stretched
her breasts

 

pushed out
seeking escape
and there was that bloke
fishing over the way

 

and we didn't care
a toss
she said
I liked how

 

her soft
plump hand
held mine
her fingers

 

gripped mine
preventing their escape
had they wanted to
(which they didn't)

 

yes I remember that
I said
(we only noticed him
just before we kissed

 

tucked amongst trees)
is it unusual
for swans
to come to our lake?

 

she asked
I shouldn't think so
I said
(I hadn't thought

 

about it at all)
as we walked
I glanced at her profile
the nose

 

the flushed cheeks
the eyes blue
clear blue
as if

 

in white dishes
her hair brushed
in her usual
careless way

 

I hope he's not
there today
she said
it's not the same

 

kissing
in front of others
I doubt he is
I said

 

Lohengrin
yes I had heard
the highlights
of the opera

 

on the radio
a few times
the swan bit
she had said about

 

as we came
to the pond
(my word not hers)
we  saw no one

 

was there
except ducks
and moor hens
and fish swimming

 

just under
the surface
we sat
on the warm

 

grassy bank
and she sat
with her chin
on her knees

 

her hands holding
her legs
peaceful
she said

 

a crow sounded nearby
a woodpecker tapped
away at some tree
I could see

 

the impression
of her bar strap
through the white
cotton blouse

 

at the back
how do they manage
to undo them?
I thought

 

my hands each side
of my legs
balancing me
I love it here

 

she said
I like it anywhere
I said
she turned

 

and playfully
hit my arm
I meant the place
not that

 

she said smiling
still no swan
I said
she looked

 

at the water's skin
a Mallard swam by
do you think of sex
all the time?

 

she said
pretty much
I said
I thought so

 

she  replied
there was that heron
landed that time
I said

 

yes there was
she said
the sun was warm
white clouds

 

no swan
and us
making love
in my head.

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BY THE OLD POND.

Milka sat on her bicycle
looking at you
the Saturday morning sun
was warm

 

you'd just finished work
and had met her
by the bridge
where we going?

 

she asked
we could leave the bikes
at my place
and go into town

 

to the cinema
you said
what just sit there
in the dark

 

and not be able
to see each other
or such?
she said

 

we could ride
to where I used to live
and see the pond there
where I used to fish?

 

you said
is it far?
she said
not too far

 

she pulled a face
can't go to my place
she said
my mother's home

 

as she usually is
no chance
of being alone
with you there

 

she said grumpily
mine is no good
at weekends
you said

 

she looked at you
her eyes gazing
the old pond then
it is

 

she said
and you began to cycle
with her beside you
back up the hill

 

and by the farmhouse
where she lived
and along narrow lanes
between hedgerows

 

and birds flying out
and the occasional
car rushing by
she beside you

 

talking all the way
about how her mother
moans about her
not doing this or that

 

or not doing
the chores properly
and how her two brothers
tease her

 

about going out with you
and how you needed
to see a shrink
and you smile

 

knowing her brothers well
then you're on the main road
and a mile or so
and you are there

 

and go in
by the back way
along a narrow lane
and into the woods

 

behind the cottage
where you used to live
and along the narrow ride
through the woods

 

to the field
and then the pond
which is peaceful
and the water is still

 

and a few ducks
swim there
and birds sing
from tall trees

 

you rest the bikes
against trees
and sit on the grass
by the pond

 

quiet here
you said
we used to call this
the lake

 

who's we?
Milka said
my old girlfriend and I
you replied

 

where is she now?
we don't see
each other any more
you said

 

Milka said nothing
but gazed at the water
of the pond
at the ducks there

 

and looked
at the fish
just beneath
the surface

 

did you make out here?
she asked
now and then
you said

 

why bring me here?
she said moodily
it's quiet
and we can be alone

 

you said
is that all?
not wanting relive
old memories with me?

 

she said
you gazed at her
no of course not
that was a different thing

 

different love
so you say
she said
should we leave then?

 

you said
she stared at the pond
at the ducks drifting
and the sunlight

 

through the branches
of tall trees
no
she said

 

I like it here
she lay down
on the grass
sunlight on her face

 

her hands resting
on her abdomen
you lay beside her
did you really

 

make out here?
now and then
did no one see you?
not that we ever knew

 

you said
she smiled
risky
what if someone had?

 

we didn't think of that
at the time
bet you didn't
she said

 

what was it like
the first time?
it's history
you said

 

we're what matters now
she nodded
yes I guess we are
she said

 

and the sun shone bright
through the tall trees
and a bird flew by
over head.

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Seasons on a Pond

A drive in the backseat on a snowy winter night
Staring out the frosted pane as the street lights pass
Its a chilled evening and I can see my breath parting my body
My eyes are drawn towards a frozen pond
The flakes float around me and the night doesn't seem so still
In a few months I see it all thawed out
The flora is now in bloom
Little petals float along the water with no purpose but to be watched
In the nights I watch the pond again reflecting the colours of street lamps that accompany it
Filling the darkness and the pond with a cozy hue and almost warmth
I visit the pond another day...
Now the pond shimmers in the sky's palette
But around me, everything is shifting
Its only a matter of time before the pond sees a reset
More months pass and this time the pond has a new face
The decidous neighbours decorate the pond in red and yellow
The wind manipulates time and passes us, dragging the winter with it
Another cycle is here and the pond sees another life

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The world always changes, but something as beautiful and innocent as a pond just repeats. Why can't we just enjoy it?

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