If one windy day
you find yourself
beside the pool
with your three-
year-old girl,
resist the urge
to stay dry. She
will laugh at the way
you pull her through
the blue chlorinated
water with such real
joy that it will catch
in you so wholly that even
strangers in the grass
watching you play
will comment to you
on how sweet that you,
like your daughter,
delight in being wet. Someday
you will forget the chill—
the body cannot
pull the back the memory
of cold anymore than it
can bring back the red
pain of labor.
But her smile, the memory
of that as it flashes
above the refracting light,
it will forever bring a smile
to your lips, a real smile,
no matter how
tired you are,
how old and dry.