Golden moments

I was in Hampstead ponds in my mind. Easy to envisage from many such trips.

I had chosen a sunny day. The cold water immersion being rewarded with the sun in spring.

I watched my arms through the water as I pushed them forward and pulled them back in a breaststroke.

The water was golden and watching my arms was fascinating, entrancing. Holding onto the moment in my mind, the world ceasing for a few seconds.

The beauty of the moment and the feeling, almost beyond words.

Transitory, transporting me in a moment that was so fragile, so delicate. Requiring immersion in the moment, as well as the water, to maintain my slippery grasp.

But a deep well, to be drunk from as I write and again in the future. To fill up my own well(being). Allowing myself a small joke, a smile in the corner of my mouth.