a poem reprinted from EDP magazine:
From my high chair I watch them
splash and kick, push and drift.
That’s how they measure progress here.
A passer-by might often think
my life is sunshades and casual cotton.
But swimmers know my legs
are bared for instant rescue.
My whistle halts their risky tricks:
I can save lives without moving,
but, surprised, they freeze as if I’d killed them.