In the Pool

Three, rather, four in the water.
I forgot myself
Amid the screaming,
The squirting shark guns,
The constant complaining about beastly brothers,
The desperate clamoring to what seems to be the top of my head,
The bathing-suit pulling,
The mascara dripping,
The ever-exuberant splashing, and
The crying.

My bleary, blackened, hawk-like eyes constantly scanning
For three young bodies.
Counting heads:
One, two, yes, three.
Following the youngest
On his land-loving quest around the pitted deck,
Reaching for the tiny pink gun
Floating two inches too far beyond.
Catching the wide-eyed middle as he leaps,
Thud! on top of me
And struggles back and forth,
To and from the pebbletec steps.
Bracing for the eldest, as he
Canonballs off the boulder,
Splashing and drenching with his
Well-aimed birthday present super soaker water blaster.