My Pool

I hated my pool.
I didn’t want it, it came
With the house, laying in the
Back yard like an old
Slobbering dog, exacting
Squeals of delight from my
Young children, humming and
Gurgling a ditty of “feed me
With your fortune” and “caress
Me with your time”.
And I relented,
Seduced by images
Of shared joy and clear, warm
Nights where light breezes
Cool my wet hair and I am
Near weightless of care. But
The years passed and I did not
Count on the winters, the
Fallout of nature’s endless
Cycle of death to life and
Back to death again. And I,
Immersed in the struggle to
Keep the waters clear, felt no
Longer capable of finding the
Delicate balance between a
Chemistry of desire and the
Tension that suspends debris
In places I could hardly reach.
I wanted to cover it, permanently,
Or fill it with something
That blended with the landscape.
Perhaps become a place
Where I could plant seeds, seeds
That said “feed me with your
Fortune” and “caress me with your
Time and I will grow for you”.
And in the spring, I did.
With great machines and trucks
Of dirt, it vanished from sight.
It no longer waits to be cleaned and
The shriveled brown leaves of fall
Blow across it unhindered.
It is gone, or good as gone.
Even if the wet earth of winter
Sinks ever so slightly in what was
The deep end.