1 September 2020
The aquarobics music pumps and the teacher bounces, booming to her bobbing class. Lane markers, dark blue in the aqua pool, pucker on their edges, serrated like a breadknife, rippling like ric-rac. As my grandson learns overarm, the water surface melts. I sit in a Hockney with a Motown soundtrack.
Kathy Prokhovnik 
Lovely! One thing I love and admire about these pieces is the way the constraint makes your adjectives count. This one is already so fine, and then it lifts to a whole other level with the last sentence.
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Thank you Jonathan! You’re very kind. I love writing them, finding the words I want.
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