Surfacing

Phillip Brown

Beneath the surface
The pool-water is still,
And time bends and
Sways like large
Leaves of seaweed.

I float, suspended
In a blue dream where
Strands of sunlight weave
A spell, caressing
My bare skin.

The clouds ripple
Along the surface of
An underwater eden.

Entranced, I reach and
Touch the sky.
The image quivers
At my fingertips.

Drifting toward the light
I surface,
Lips parted, breathing.