Her head bobs, she looks at the ceiling,
     almost standing.
In the water I just make out her arms
     mildly flapping.
There -- she's doing her swim across the pool.
In that same water she once slapped,
     now she cuts clean
And goes forward.

I remember bringing her here
     as a father with small child.
She clung to me then.
Now, she says, swimming will be her sport.
She'll cut smooth through the water,
     one end to another,
And when she stands still in the water,
     it will cling to her.

2/15/97

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