I like swimming in fifty degree weather
Standing in the surf waist deep as the cold wind buffets your upper body
Dive beneath the surface and feel a strange warmth
One that warmth turns to numbness, time to come ashore
The people in non-beach attire (sweaters and jackets)bring their dogs for a walk
Small dogs in jackets
Big dogs still willing to jump in the cold water chasing a tennis ball or a stick
Clear, cloudless, infinite blue sky
No guarantee of prevention of hypothermia
No close quarters language as the wind gusts seize vocalizations
And cast them on the rocks at low tide or throw them into the sky for the seagulls to peck at
Holding hands in Mediterranean chill
Not like other chills with ice and snow
But nonetheless stabbing pointed tendrils
To remind one of the penance of seasonal cold
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem