I was a lucky child growing up within walking distance of a crescent of beach, shallow turquoise ocean streaked by dark channels, five thrusts of rocky reef pushing out from the sand like arthritic fingers. That sun-shot afternoon, I waded out into quiet water to cool off, deeper than I’d ever been, enjoying the feel of a gentle sea lapping against my chest, the texture of sand squeezing between my toes.

so quiet
the air, peacefully hot
tall trees graceful
in the breeze
disasters elsewhere

Then, in a slipping second, the hazy, sleepy blueness of my existence vanished. I looked up to see the shimmer of the surface of the sea just above my head; below, a dark tumble of rocks and jagged holes, giant seaweeds gesturing with leathery fronds. My sand bank haven of moments ago now an unattainable ledge mere meters away. A basic dog paddle might have worked, but even that skill was totally beyond me—swimming lessons had never been on my list of goodies. All I could do was jump up repeatedly, my head breaking into gulps of sunlight, and scream to a scatter of distant beach goers.

suddenly
the world sounds
dangerous—
mosquitoes whine
in my mind’s dark corners

In moments like this, they say your life replays before your eyes, but I was too young for such reminiscence and philosophy. All I could think of was leaping, yelling. At last, a man quickly thrust through the water. He plucked me up as easily as a piece of driftwood, set me down on the shore, asked if I was OK. I said something like Yes and You’re very fit for your age. I especially remember his gentle smile, his lined face. I especially regret not thanking him and have often wondered what he thought of my childish thoughtlessness. When I returned home, I told my parents nothing of my closeness to drowning. Days later, they happily agreed to my request for swimming lessons. That decision I have never regretted.

in every life
so many
possibilities
patterns of cracking ice
that complicate the pond

Tony Steven Williams

is a Canberra poet, short-fiction author, and occasional songwriter with many publications in journals, anthologies, and magazines. In all his work, the environment and the human condition are very important to him. Tony is the author of two poetry collections, Sun and Moon, Light and Dark (2018) and Reimmersion (2023), both published by Ginninderra Press.

More on the Web: By, About, and Beyond

⚡ Glimpses of Canberra in Paint and Poetry, a collaboration between artist Arlene Williams and poet Tony Steven Williams, Strathnairn Arts (15 March-9 April 2023)

⚡ Post inferno, a haibun in MacQueen’s Quinterly (Issue 1, January 2020)