Bent Arrow

a group of women
plump, pleased,
towels around necks
preparing for a morning swim

walking between them and the water
I come across a line of pale rocks on darker background
signaling my path up the beach

but there is a twist in it
pointing me not to the safe haven of my accustomed log
but out into the water
that swimmers’ paradise
that place of dreams
beyond language such as this

you call me out to the deep

I turn toward shore
write a poem
and wonder