Another Australian Christmas poem from my files.
A Christmas Swim
Our backyard pool is loads of fun.
Most days it’s just me and Trent
and maybe a couple of friends
splashing around and keeping cool,
but once a year, on Christmas day,
our pool is the coolest place ever.
After Christmas lunch is over
and digested
and the adults are finished with their
post-lunch snoozes
me and Trent head outside
and bombie into the pool.
Soon we are joined
by Uncle Bob and cousin Phil
in their fluoro boardies.
Uncle Bob always takes a running dive
and half the water disappears.
Next come the aunties;
Aunty Daph saying ‘now don’t wet my hair, boys’
and Aunty Pru bobbing at the deep end
like a lost whale.
Mum and Dad come out
and, even though the pool’s getting crowded
they jump and splash like teenagers.
The funniest bit of all is when granny comes out
in her flowery cossie
and latches onto a pool pony.
She might look pretty helpless
but when she gets hold of a noodle
she whacks and bats
and gives as good as she gets.
Aunty Daph’s hair isn’t just wet –
it’s saturated
and so is everything else
as we splash
and dive
and noodle joust
and submarine
and bombie
and stay cool
until it’s time for Christmas dinner.