In April I watched my daughter
struggle to take her first breath of air
in May I watched my mother
struggle to take her last
all the while the spring rains
fell across the rolling earth.
Now it is August and the museum
of days deepens into red.
My father eats dinner alone by the window
watching the northern clouds burn
as they sail into the night.
Remember swimming out
to the far dock for the first time?
If you grow too tired
you can float on your back and rest.
We are building a fort in the thicket
of love called family.
We are swimming out together
across the lake of time.