State of Matter

Aug 3 2015

The rain came down like ice picks.

As if hard enough to break skin,

and cold as the thin rarefied air

a mile up.

On a grey still day

of pelting rain

falling straight, and windless.

But under the surface

I felt protected, warm,

the summer heat

the lake still holds.

I slip beneath

and feel immune from the storm;

impervious skin, accustomed to wetness,

the body of water, a placid refuge

dense, and still.

Or resume my stroke

and feel the power of weather

the ocean of air.

Like a bracing spa;

from cold to hot,

chaotic, calm.

But even submerged

I hear the surface churn

the roiling fizz.

The quality of sound

in incompressible water

is almost material,

steady, substantial

an octave down.

And the lake, still as glass

but without the mirror shine.

As if the boundary line

between water and air

had dissolved.

A state of matter

that's indeterminate;

neither floating or falling,

solid, liquid, or gas.

Short sharp gasps

of atomized water, saturated air.

Making for land

I trust is there.

I love an open-water swim in the rain. In summer, when the lake is warm. I feel impervious in the downpour. The contrast between the chaos above and calm below is striking. I inhabit a water world, no matter what.

But this was no gentle rain. It was a hard cold pelting one: like needles, when my head came up for air. Still, there was the same sense of an indeterminate state, of a dissolution of boundaries, of a soft muddled monotony of light and sensation, of time suspended.

And the lake, fortunately, still retaining the heat of a few warm days: I mean it's Aug 3, and I'm still in a wetsuit?!!