Tom Wilberding brought this to my attention. This is the most eloquent evocation I’ve ever read of the gift that continues to give. Find it in July/Aug 2009 edition of Poetry magazine.

 

Learning to swim

BY BOB HICOK

At forty-eight, to be given water,

which is most of the world, given life

in water, which is most of me, given ease,

 

which is most of what I lack, here, where walls

don’t part to my hands, is to be born

as of three weeks ago. Taking nothing

 

from you, mother, or you, sky, or you,

mountain, that you wouldn’t take

if offered by the sea, any sea, or river,

 

any river, or the pool, beside which

a woman sits who would save me

if I needed saving, in a red suit, as if flame

 

is the color of emergency, as I do,

need saving, from solid things,

most of all, their dissolve.