Pruning feet float up with every step,
the rushing water tugging on our bluish veins,
trying to pull us along.

We enter the mouth;
anticipation curls his toes,
excitement elongates my strides.

Absorbed, we run through
this frigid water,
laughing
screaming
stretching
reaching
to touch the colors
that cut through the dark.

The flashlight beam sniffs out
our vice principal’s name
in red graffiti
next to blue graffiti
next to yellow graffiti
next to green graffiti
and our laugh
hugs the damp concrete
before flying back to us.

We run
from the smell of cold;
we run
from not-there, approaching footsteps;
we burst forth
like a star waiting a millennia to soar.

Warm light,
clear water,
lumpy stones,
a stoic frog,
a limp hand
grasping a flashlight.