by Glen Martin Fitch
Though seldom warm,
more often bracing cold,
I soon adjust.
Uplifted, blissful, freed.
My skin feels numb.
Inhaling long
I hold my breath,
exhale, then pause,
once more proceed.
The surface ripples
as I stretch and turn.
I flex, relax, and
sense I my body glide.
I let my mind
drift off without concern.
Secure I close my eyes.
All fears subside.
Invigorating and
restorative,
I sneak a dip in,
if the time is right.
But focused sessions
meet my need to live
a self-respectful life.
And so each night I,
like a swimmer,
with a leap
dive deep in bed
for laps and laps
of luscious sleep.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011