Yehudit walked with me
in the woods
and sunlight pushed
through the branches


of trees overhead
birds sang
a rabbit rushed off
through the thick


she wore
the dark green skirt
and white blouse


school had ended
for the holiday
wonder if our swan
is there


she said
reminds me
of the Wagner opera
I liked the way


the sunlight
lit up her hair
as she walked
tints of dark brown


and light brown
a hair grip
held in place
unruly bits


she said
that's it
that's the opera


she had undone
the green school tie
the collar loose
the tie untidily


pulled away
neck showed
last time
we saw it


at the lake
(the name
she called
the pond)


we sat and kissed
and you put
your hand
up my skirt


she said
where the blouse
was stretched
her breasts


pushed out
seeking escape
and there was that bloke
fishing over the way


and we didn't care
a toss
she said
I liked how


her soft
plump hand
held mine
her fingers


gripped mine
preventing their escape
had they wanted to
(which they didn't)


yes I remember that
I said
(we only noticed him
just before we kissed


tucked amongst trees)
is it unusual
for swans
to come to our lake?


she asked
I shouldn't think so
I said
(I hadn't thought


about it at all)
as we walked
I glanced at her profile
the nose


the flushed cheeks
the eyes blue
clear blue
as if


in white dishes
her hair brushed
in her usual
careless way


I hope he's not
there today
she said
it's not the same


in front of others
I doubt he is
I said


yes I had heard
the highlights
of the opera


on the radio
a few times
the swan bit
she had said about


as we came
to the pond
(my word not hers)
we  saw no one


was there
except ducks
and moor hens
and fish swimming


just under
the surface
we sat
on the warm


grassy bank
and she sat
with her chin
on her knees


her hands holding
her legs
she said


a crow sounded nearby
a woodpecker tapped
away at some tree
I could see


the impression
of her bar strap
through the white
cotton blouse


at the back
how do they manage
to undo them?
I thought


my hands each side
of my legs
balancing me
I love it here


she said
I like it anywhere
I said
she turned


and playfully
hit my arm
I meant the place
not that


she said smiling
still no swan
I said
she looked


at the water's skin
a Mallard swam by
do you think of sex
all the time?


she said
pretty much
I said
I thought so


she  replied
there was that heron
landed that time
I said


yes there was
she said
the sun was warm
white clouds


no swan
and us
making love
in my head.

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Milka sat on her bicycle
looking at you
the Saturday morning sun
was warm


you'd just finished work
and had met her
by the bridge
where we going?


she asked
we could leave the bikes
at my place
and go into town


to the cinema
you said
what just sit there
in the dark


and not be able
to see each other
or such?
she said


we could ride
to where I used to live
and see the pond there
where I used to fish?


you said
is it far?
she said
not too far


she pulled a face
can't go to my place
she said
my mother's home


as she usually is
no chance
of being alone
with you there


she said grumpily
mine is no good
at weekends
you said


she looked at you
her eyes gazing
the old pond then
it is


she said
and you began to cycle
with her beside you
back up the hill


and by the farmhouse
where she lived
and along narrow lanes
between hedgerows


and birds flying out
and the occasional
car rushing by
she beside you


talking all the way
about how her mother
moans about her
not doing this or that


or not doing
the chores properly
and how her two brothers
tease her


about going out with you
and how you needed
to see a shrink
and you smile


knowing her brothers well
then you're on the main road
and a mile or so
and you are there


and go in
by the back way
along a narrow lane
and into the woods


behind the cottage
where you used to live
and along the narrow ride
through the woods


to the field
and then the pond
which is peaceful
and the water is still


and a few ducks
swim there
and birds sing
from tall trees


you rest the bikes
against trees
and sit on the grass
by the pond


quiet here
you said
we used to call this
the lake


who's we?
Milka said
my old girlfriend and I
you replied


where is she now?
we don't see
each other any more
you said


Milka said nothing
but gazed at the water
of the pond
at the ducks there


and looked
at the fish
just beneath
the surface


did you make out here?
she asked
now and then
you said


why bring me here?
she said moodily
it's quiet
and we can be alone


you said
is that all?
not wanting relive
old memories with me?


she said
you gazed at her
no of course not
that was a different thing


different love
so you say
she said
should we leave then?


you said
she stared at the pond
at the ducks drifting
and the sunlight


through the branches
of tall trees
she said


I like it here
she lay down
on the grass
sunlight on her face


her hands resting
on her abdomen
you lay beside her
did you really


make out here?
now and then
did no one see you?
not that we ever knew


you said
she smiled
what if someone had?


we didn't think of that
at the time
bet you didn't
she said


what was it like
the first time?
it's history
you said


we're what matters now
she nodded
yes I guess we are
she said


and the sun shone bright
through the tall trees
and a bird flew by
over head.

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Seasons on a Pond

A drive in the backseat on a snowy winter night
Staring out the frosted pane as the street lights pass
Its a chilled evening and I can see my breath parting my body
My eyes are drawn towards a frozen pond
The flakes float around me and the night doesn't seem so still
In a few months I see it all thawed out
The flora is now in bloom
Little petals float along the water with no purpose but to be watched
In the nights I watch the pond again reflecting the colours of street lamps that accompany it
Filling the darkness and the pond with a cozy hue and almost warmth
I visit the pond another day...
Now the pond shimmers in the sky's palette
But around me, everything is shifting
Its only a matter of time before the pond sees a reset
More months pass and this time the pond has a new face
The decidous neighbours decorate the pond in red and yellow
The wind manipulates time and passes us, dragging the winter with it
Another cycle is here and the pond sees another life

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The world always changes, but something as beautiful and innocent as a pond just repeats. Why can't we just enjoy it?

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