Ruth Herschberger


The Huron - Poem by Ruth Herschberger

I swam the Huron of love, and am not ashamed,
It was many saw me do it, scoffing, scoffing,
They said it was foolish, winter and all,
But I dove in, greaselike, and swam,
And came up where Erie verges.
I would say for the expenditure of love,
And the atrophy of longing, there is no cure
So swift, so sleek, so fine, so draining
As a swim through the Huron in the wintertime.


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Read poems about / on: winter, love, swimming



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 20, 2003



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