Heath Walk

Late summer now,
we are used to each other,
walk with linked arms
towards the pool. I sit
watching green light,
green darkness, flow
together over water.
You go to swim under
the trees, but stay
on the concrete ledge
fathoming the water's
chill, the shock of it
against your body,
no longer young.
You stroll towards me,
dress, as day turns
to evening. The pond
is given back to ducks
and fishing lines,
the last swimmer risen
through its gleam.
Air is keen on our skin,
we pass between
trees bearing night's
coolness, with, as yet,
no hint of drying.