This poem is taken from Stand 214, 15(2) August - October 2017.

Paul Mills Three Poems
The least water lily

September heat all day     and out of the car
a cool breeze brushes us from the lake

you start to look for a swimming place
just a few people about
a small two-person yacht far off-shore

a notice says this is the home
of the least water-lily     post ice-age flower
the only mere in England where it still lives

you begin your swim    edging
from a spot in the woods into residual ice-melt

the two of you    my daughters in law
striking out    laughing because of the cold

maybe I should try searching the margins
for this yellow signal of a survival
still happening whether I find it or not     
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