You’ve taken her further than Mom would,
now, her giggles are sneezes and tears.
I look up from my book, see you splash,
try to scare the voracious horse fly
away from she who is most precious. You hold
her high, duck completely beneath the water,
come out and turn her like a fine piece of art,
one hundred and eighty degrees left, then right,
to make sure some damn fly isn’t feasting on her.
Sitting in the shallows, she climbs
into your lap—pushes you and you fall
so slowly, so surely, it’s as if you collapse
just for her, as she scrambles on top of you,
hugs you with all her might.
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