I float in the pond

on my blue mat,

splash away deer flies,

close my eyes in the baking sun.

The mat deflates, I am

half in the water, legs and head

cradled on the remaining air.

I look across the pond,

yellow eyes stare at me.

We study each other. The turtle’s

eyelids lazily close and open

over protruding eyes. The fist-sized

head of the snapping turtle

vanishes into the water.

I still remember the first time

I saw a red eft

translucent orange

the color of a plastic toy

that a child left behind.

“How do you survive?” I murmur

as I hold him gently in my palm.

The theater is empty, we eat popcorn,

drink water, watch the movie.

“A World of Your Own” begins to play. My husband

takes my hand, lifts me to dance.

We sway with the music, I feel like

I am being asked to dance forever.