Boysí Diving in the Swimming Sports.
Muscled, tanned by a burgeoning sun,
all four described such sweet deep arcs,
flew down to splash, less neatly
than the yearís televised Olympians
but with such joy and such display.
When they went to university (the town earlier
having bred mainly trawlermen), their grans and parents
marvelled, at the colleges and courts.
Last year, two of them met, at another Sports Day.
(Their threads: fair-ish careers, admin, odd blip.
Relationships). Their grandsons ran,
torsos as muscled as their forbearsí ever were,
slim stretching legs gobbling the track,
raking and reaching for the momentís gold.
If you have any comments on this poem, Robert Nisbet
would be pleased to hear from you.