We may be land-locked in the middle of Texas, but we are not without our watery blessings.
If it weren’t for the cold, constant springs here, I’m not sure I would’ve made it 18 months, much less 18 years.

So I started today with a swim. 
I don’t know why I don’t do that more often — it makes me feel so awake and relieved.
So different from a run — hot and pounding, or even yoga, indoors. 

While I swam I thought about Neruda — water often makes me think of Neruda — and of this poem especially:

Poet’s Obligation

To whoever is not listening to the sea
this Friday morning, to whoever is cooped up
in house or office, factory or woman
or street or mine or harsh prison cell;
to him I come…

(Read the rest here, or watch and listen here…)