The day still unswum, after lunch we dive in
and suspend ourselves in choppy water,
our homage to Poseidon whose shifting outskirts
rent against the hard shore.
In cleaves of marine glass the water rises, holds,
and then shatters into armfuls of snow; rises, holds and vanishes into snow.

All your days have lead us to this moored boat, this narrow bay.
Out in the channel the other boats are making for shelter,
a new wind is hurling marine glass against the rocks
and you are shouting at me:
“Dad, I’m going to climb up to that high ledge and jump.”

When we began our expeditions
it was me doing all the talking
commanding you to grip my finger
and hold on tight,
or jump now!
the little wave coming your way.

While you were dumb
I was your language,
your vigilance and your power.
The danger of geese and bus wheels,
canals and escalator teeth
thwarted by my swooping you into the air,
and tucking you under my arm.

When you became a boy
we developed a riding habit,
mounting you on my shoulders like a Hussar.
You enjoyed a superior view
and told me what you saw
and the balance shifted to your advantage:
I found myself in possession of a second-in-command.

In this fashion we waded deep into the Avon
and walked out, dripping, but alive,
we spied basking sharks,
bellowed at wet cattle over a village fence,
and by Ullswater one frozen morning laughed agog,
pricked by the hair-raising thunder of a fighter jet. Big bang dad!

These expeditions equipped us with quiet language, complicity
expressed in tall conversations, next contented silence.
It’s your calmness I remember best, and your determination:
that we had an objective, which you would help achieve.
And your affection for the steep path, night swims and owls.
Oh, and how at last you fidgeted and longed to run on ahead.

Poseidon’s marine glass explodes into spumes of snow melt.
Swimming, alone, I watch you climb the rock towards Zeus
until you are on the summit silhouetted by the afternoon sun,
a sea-water temple bronze. “Are you sure?” I yell.
There is no reply. You are bracing to jump. You are airborne.