Outside February is chill and bleak,
but not so in these warm waters.
In our cloudy globe,
souvenir of a tropical world,
snow is replaced with steamy drops.
I jump in, shaking the scene,
while you scoot down the ramp
cling to safety rails,
drift slowly back
to your amphibian self.
Thanks to the water's support,
your weak legs work
as you stand, bend, and reach.
Paddling in this womb,
you grow, muscles slowly strengthening.
For now, you are a mermaid,
still speaking your own language,
having little to do with the rest of us,
skeptical of standing on dry land.