The first plunge is ice immovable,
then laps slap at the heart;
salt tang kisses,
seaweed tangles toes.
Barnacles threaten to cut
the flow of flight through water,
light-heavy, cold-warm.
Returning to shore,
skin glistens pearl-water
that sticks behind ears,
disappears in vapours.
From Skirlags (Red Squirrel Press, 2009)
© Nalini Paul 2009