Naval Air Station, Guam Swim Team, 1973
 Solid on her two bare feet, she
 stands with her teammates in the locker room.
 Her brown hair with its sunny streaks woven through
 hangs in a braid tied off with a red rubber band.
 The tip of her ponytail like a spade is dripping wet, the water
 easing down her back and under her striped swimsuit
 where the skin is milky white.
 In the laughter of the big girls, she
 feels like she’s floating, resting on a raft,
 Rather than pulling herself like a frog with her arms
 reaching out & her legs spreading wide,
 moving the water like earth being cleared for something new.
 She won her race today. Not a personal best.
                 But she doesn’t pay attention to that.
 The play of it all, her body dancing like a mermaid ballerina –
 that’s why she’s there.
 The captain, striding to the shower, slows long enough
 to hold up her right hand, fingers spread in front of little one’s face.
 She claps her hand against the big salute. The feel of their palms
 hitting each other vibrates for a few seconds &
 moves up her arm & into her center.
 “Great race!”
 Another vibration then tickles her ears &
 touches her core, meeting up with the energy of the clap.
 Looking up, her brown eyes glittering like the card she
 made her mom for her birthday last week,
 she smiles.
 Not with her lips sealed & tilted up at the edges,
 but so her braced teeth show through her soft pink lips &
   a little giggle comes out.

This poem is also part of a collection I put together called All the Shapes of Joy.

The Moon Speaking

 The Moon Speaking
 I remember that night, when I was full-on 
 in my shiny best, I got a glimpse of you moving 
 along the sandy shore. You caught my attention 
 as you skipped from spot to spot on the wet sand 
 where the gentle waves caress the earth. You were chasing 
 sand crabs. Whether teeny-tiny or the bigger ones, those 
 armored beings always beat your lumbering foot, like a giant \
 overtaking them, back into their little bitty holes. You
 giggled at their speed and spoke to them in laughter. When you 
 tired of your rollicking pursuit, you paused on the sand and 
 gazed out over the water to the horizon. Your spine 
 straightened like a tree in the summer sun and your chest 
 curved ever so slightly toward the sky, like a baby opening
 her mouth, hungry to be nourished, completely trusting 
 her mother. As if just noticing it’s the light on in the room 
 that is keeping things from being dark, you look my way. 
 As you lean back with your arms wide in a heart-centered kiss 
 of communion, I sense your imagination unfolding like a flower.
 In the mirror of my being, you see your power, your beauty 
 and strength. You claim the truth: how you simply need to be,
 emanating your light, in phases, not always glowing in your
 full glory because sometimes you need to rest. 

Click HERE for an audio recording of the poem.

This poem is part of an online collection I call All the Shapes of Joy.