swimming, the return to the beginning.

Swimming.

I have returned to the water. Where I move smoothly, effortlessly, skimming the blue, rolling over and watching the clouds pass over the sun. I blow bubbles and move my rather tired body like an old sea lion undulating over and under the surface.

I speak to no one. I hear as distant music, the noise of children and parents. I swim until I begin to tire and then I float. The water from the heat of August is almost too warm, but still refreshing. I rest. I swim again. I rest on a chaise and revel in the warmth of the sun, pulling down my hat and pushing all care from my mind. I have no age. I am invisible. I am sun and clouds and water.