through the looking glass

I'm writing two poems today to get caught up on the National Poetry Writing Month 30-day challenge. The first is about a place, based on the Wild Violet prompt to write a travel poem or a poem about a place: NAPOWRIMO 2020 - Prompt 23.

Vermont lake with tall grass and small farm buildings

Morning Swim near Cabot, Vermont

Fog-shrouded, I pulled
through the shady water.
Palms pressed together, then
thrust forward, sweeping back
to my chest. Frog-kick
through cool morning.
Glasses tucked away on shore,
I peered at fuzzy landmarks,
marking the distinct bulges
that never changed. One day,
a brown shape watched
me from the water's edge,
elegant as a deer, barely
moving. Then gone.
Plants, or fish, brushed by
my legs. I thought about

how alone I was. No one
but deer to witness. And how
terrifying that was, and yet
exhilarating. My arms
never tiring. Mind sharply
sprung by the chill water.
How the tingling dawn
grew gradually
brighter, louder
as I swam into day.

- April 24, 2020

My second poem today is based on today's Wild Violet prompt, to write a poem based on a saying or idiom: NAPOWRIMO 2020 - Prompt 24

Colorful plastic robot built with marble tubes

When It Rains

Bleary day, pushing our free time
inside (like our work time
and sleep time). When it rains,
we pour plastic tubes
from a box onto the floor.
Construct a robot
of blue, red, yellow and white.
Plunk metal marbles
into his head
to watch them race
through his internal
channels, betting
on which exit the ball
will take. Through left
or right foot, or through
the clear arms, stiff
at his sides. No sporting event
has ever thrilled us so.
We cheer and cackle
as we run these
random possibilities,
again and again. A race
of silver wonder,
wobbling back and forth
to an outcome
we cannot predict.

- April 24, 2020