Swimming Pool Pastoral

     All bags parked
 and shelved in our snug bungalow,
  we stroll toward the beach—both sorry antique
   Hotel Barrymore
  (famous old noble house converted
in the mid-Fifties)
   is so far from shore. We hug the fence,
  most cattle and goats grazing on the far side, for now;
but missing fence segments let barnyard
  fowl and heifers wander
    freely through Inn grounds, between cottages,
  across open courtyard. Puzzled
     by such laxities

     in a posh setting,
 we tarry: scan dark storm clouds
   thickening overhead, late afternoon drizzle
    just begun. Downpour
   imminent! Turntail, we reverse
our course, hurry back
    to the Inn—you all disappointment,
  trailing a net bag, bulging with masks, snorkels, flippers.
You don this gear, a skindiver’s
  full accoutrements,
   and sweep across the Barrymore swimming pool’s
  length, many underwater laps
     swiftly rocketed—