"Swimmers"

 

        The sun dappled lake entices swimmers with coolness after a long, hot summer. One bather cautiously tip-toes to the edge, tentatively dipping into the coldness. She retracts her foot, shoots a glance over her shoulder, and eases back into the water. Another swimmer, grabs the tree rope, swings apelike over the lake's mirror, whoops with glee, and cartwheels into the depths with the careless abandon of joy. A final swimmer stands poised on the dock. In one flawless motion, he dives and cleaves the water's surface with barely a splash. A few feet away, he emerges and boldly slices his way across the lake. To everyone entering the lake of life, no matter what your approach, may you remember the unexpected currents and drop-offs. Swim safely and don't drown!

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Water Nymph" by David Chapman

Pen and Ink

"Philosophy in the Car"

 

Hours in a box on wheels   

Could play out soundlessly   

With each of us plugged     

Into our own online world   

Instead   

Music pushes our pulses   

Into unison   

And we philosophize   

About Life   

With a capital “L”    

Our Dreams and Doubts   

Dance on the dashboard   

As we   

Pick apart     

Cognitive dissonance     

With science instead of faith   

And create Peace on Earth     

Time distorts     

Into only the here-and-now   

Or tunnels down into our pasts   

Or spirals outward to What Will Be   

 

Copyright 2015 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

 

 

 

 

“Rolling in the Grass”

Bridget catching lounging in the sun

 

            From puppyhood, our dog Bridget’s loved stretching out in the sunshine. Her sleek black coat catches the sun’s rays. In some lights, she becomes glossy obsidian. No matter the temperature, she’ll lounge outside until she bakes. I think she has some internal censor that pings a warning just before her coat begins to sizzle.
 



Bridget getting ready to roll!

            At that moment, she rolls in the grass.

            Her delight oozes as she squiggles right-left-right-left, and often she grunts in pleasure. When she finishes this ritual, she heads to the back door, which she taps with her paw until someone opens it. But she doesn’t enter the house. Her back, covered with grass or other yard debris, demands a vigorous hand pat or brushing to clear her coat. And so she waits patiently on the back porch while one of us dusts her off.

            This morning’s cold didn’t hinder Bridget’s daily roll in the grass. The rare chill in our Texas air didn’t prevent her from gathering a little warmth from the spotty sunshine and then rolling in the dormant grass.

            Sometimes, I wish my own life could derive happiness in such simple ways. Stretching out in sunbeams—and rolling in the grass.

 

Copyright 2104 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman