swim, little fish, swim.

just from this small distance, i can catch a wave to ride

and feel the surge and tug and lose my sky in an instant.

the ground is up and all my limbs are cartwheeling.

the nearness of you does it.

the guess of when next I can burrow my self into the curve of your neck

and smile against your scent.

there is still some time to take another deep breath, and

another.

the wanting to fall headlong into the rush and the waiting to find the stillness of the deeper currents.

all of it is swimming.

and the best way to enjoy it is to stop all the flapping and flailing,

surrender to the stretch and buoyancy,

lie back and let the

water fold me into its fingers while we touch this weightless dance.

and, with a full and bold breath,

I lean into the weight of the depth;

let the body of the sea press itself certainly against me,

and then dive into the everchanging, renewable force of love.