sanctuary at pine island

on river shore mum smoothes the rug and plants
the drinks and sandwiches; we girls splosh in
and bob round Auntie Barb, her floral bathers
with one cup soft to cooling stream

age ten my forehead creases, seeing she
swooshes backwards, shifts hips and lifts a kick
with toes that frill the surface; setting hands
to sternum, she breaststrokes water into
circular ripples, spreading lines of smiles

Mira Walker


Mira Walker is a Canberra poet.

© 2017