The Blue

The bottom of the pool shimmers like an abalone shell shivers when opened to the air, her pearl exposed.

And the moon drifts overhead, like a dancer led in a nightly round about the sky, her sinuous threads of light slipping through the pines.

Her image ripples across the surface of the water. I watch her flicker and then multiply into a myriad of swimming moons which settle until they unify as one.

Toes curled over the edge, I balance momentarily, hovering in the warm fall night, before plunging into the depths, and gliding through the spokes of luminosity escaping from the light.

Silvered bubbles of air slip through my fingers, dancing towards the boundary above.

The water caresses me, easing my restlessness, gliding through my hair.

And I dive a little deeper.

Here, seven feet down, in the glow of the pool, there is a hue of blue which imbibes you.

It drinks you in, like the sea kissing the mouth of the frothy river where she tumbles over the sliver of sand and slides into the briny depths, no longer solitary, but now a part of the vastness of the waters washing over the land and filling the air

with ephemeral mists and staccato rains which pulse with a deeper rhythm…

one which also courses through my veins.

There is a peacefulness here, in the depths, a void of sound, an absence of breath, and all around, I am pressed by her embrace.

You can see this blue, in any dewdrop, sky or pond.

I dive into her, and she swims in me, and together, we surface from seven feet down into eternity….

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Poem and photos, ©Erika Burkhalter, all rights reserved.