The daughters of the lake
On daily dips and life-long friends
We are the women of the morning
the day breakers
the first rays beaming in the bay.
We are the rain dancers
the mittened swimmers
the guardians of broken ice.
We leave Monday on the dock
and step into Plungeday
every day
through the sacred ladder.
Step
by step
we descend,
break the surface,
see the lion
and trust
our bodies
to handle
the cold
and breathe.
We are the ice whisperers
the frost dazzlers
the bare skinned snowflake melters.
We are the nose hair freezers
the floe throwers
the sock dancers on frosty boards.
We are the talk of the town
the neighbourhood loonies
the ambassadors of glistening snow.
We are the tub choppers
the goosebump makers.
From rim
to rim
we stretch
like starfish,
the heart
of the lake,
the cherries
in the punch bowl,
sizzling.
We know the shifts of seasons
come rain,
come snow,
wind or shine.
We breathe the phases of water –
bodies in the pool,
hands clasping ice,
smoke on the water
expanding our lungs.
We are the daughters of the lake
the sisters in her womb
the mothers of the day.
We are the laughter in the sunrise
the friends in the storm.
We are the daily dippers
the solstice chorus
the backup singers
to the lullabies
of chiming ice.
Come join us, do!
Put your best socks on
and sense the beat
of your heart,
rippling
and roaming
through the body
of water.
Oh Josefin, I love this!! thank you.
Oh yes! What a beautiful celebration of your group. I am part of a wonderful flock of salty seabirds here on the South coast of England and everything resonated. I just wish we got a bit more ice!