You lapped the water from the stream
For the first time, in this new time,
Shining in the lemon sun
Among the leaves in waiting.
 
Once, twice, three times,
I saw you skirt the water’s edge,
Prance against the sparkling flow,
Crane your neck to taste the stones.
 
I wanted you to drink for me
The things I felt so long ago
To lap them up, so once again
I could be lithe, without thinking.
 
On watching a young puppy taste the fresh water from a mountain stream for the first time.

When we were mermaids,
All the world was soft and swaying,
And you and I, swirled in eights,
Captivated by our shimmering tails,
One another and the mysteries.
 
Our treasure was in the shells,
Miracles we cupped in exalted hands,
Like a blessed rag-tag of children,
Or dreams of the city we’d build.
Rainbowed by sparkling schools of fish.
 
When the blinding surface broke and cut
We nursed our wounds in the lapping cave,
Let our tears join the undertow,
Fed each other laughter soup,
Restored one another with seaweed crowns.
 
Grown-ups, we are on the shore,
But “be careful,” we warn,
For there are mermaids below,
Swimming with the white whales,
In the paradise of two we carry with us.
​
For Evelyn at 55.