The gates secured with rusty padlocks,

I open my blazing red tailgate with the dim radiance of the moon guiding my hands.

I grab my jet black gear and walk toward the pond,

regulators gently clanking against my air tank like a rattled fine-china cupboard.

Slowly pulling up my constricting wetsuit,

I feel the moisture of my last job clinging to my clammy skin.

Like a lonely lighthouse keeper,

I turn on my small light and submerge my head.

My first instinct is to draw air through the regulator.

Like a tidal wave of relief, I am able to breathe.

Slowly falling through the water,

I do not long for money from this job.

Although this murky swamp water surrounds me,

I, like many others, am an avid golfer. 

The disappointment of seeing golf balls swallowed by this green behemoth,

along with the onslaught of embarrassment,

has helped me to identify my righteous purpose as a golf ball diver.

I certainly cannot complain about my job,

the sharp sounds of my bubbles bursting,

the suspended tufts of silt that I dive through,

and the rhythmic swish of the fish swimming around me lulls my mind to slumber. 

The old rope I hold on to guides my descent;

it occasionally dances around me and its fibers ensnare my fingers, causing a slight annoyance.

Reaching the bottom is like walking on another planet,

all that accompanies me is silence, 

and the turbulent flow of water pushing up against me.

I am the first man to have stood here,

like Neil Armstrong on the moon.

My hand sinks into the sludge at the bottom,

with each movement a small playful cloud spins around me.

I anticipate feeling a soft surfaced sphere roll around my palms,

but end up empty..

My depleting oxygen reminds me I am mortal;

it screams at me to begin my ascent.

Back through the thick soup I go,

hands void of any satisfaction.

I quickly peel off my clingy gear,

to rest on the rippled tailgate of my truck.

Although I have nothing for my hours of work,

I can't help but feel satisfied that I will live to challenge this pond another day.