A Piece of a Poem about Crossing a River

So I’m working on a poem, a rhyming poem (!), testing the theory that restraints fuel creativity.

Here lies the fruit of two hours’ labor. Eight lines. 

At eight I swam my river’s breadth

to pass a test, to cross not swept

away by the frigid, chugging flow

of invisible river under toe.

My stroke steady, my arms strong,

I fought the force until ere long

My toes touched sand and proud I dared

Seize with hands and mouth the air.