In summer, the city swelled
with tourists from the lowlands.

I helped to row sometimes:
my back turned to the direction
the boat was going, feeling the pull
of the oars in my hands and wrists.

There was no need of fear
for the depth of water. Old fish
lurked in mossy corners, but if you
fell in and stood up, the water
barely grazed your upper thighs.

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