Judith Strasser

Natural Buoyancy

You were two months old
when we stood in the pool at the “Y”,
hip-deep in chlorine-heavy water
warm as a mother’s womb. We pushed
you through the ripples
coaxing, “Swim to Daddy,” “Swim
to Mommy,” trusting baby fat
and reflex to keep you afloat
and breathing properly.

Just as, when the stewardess
leads you down the jetway,
your backpack slung
over one shoulder, sporty (or
is it cool?), I picture you,
not as a shuttlecock, hurtling
toward your father through thin air
and turbulence, but more like
a kestrel, soaring, held aloft
by thermals and your natural buoyancy.