I waded in her waters.
I should have stood
at waters’ edge;
used my head
and better judgment
of her current,
but instead
I skinny-dipped
in her torrents.
Got carried away
by her rapids.
Struggled with her
to release me.
She obliged;
left me lying beside her
Soaking wet,
breathless and tired.
Next season believing
I spied her new tributary
and my reflection
on its surface –
reminding me
that water has purpose,
the least of which,
to sate my need to swim.
-HymnAgen