Trout
So many fish in this stone cold river,
but you’d recognize me from my torpedo shape
and my one dress: a blue-green rainbow
with a pink streak along my sides, white underbelly,
bespattered with black spots on back and fins
like stars sprinkling a winter sky.
All day and night I swim here
where wavelets call to one another,
where the water curls around a bend,
where a moon bent rests her light head
in the wet bosom of night.
The longer I’m here, the higher
I leap and arch and hurl manes of flying spray
into fresh water. Such joy in flying high
toward blue cloud-ruffled skies, then diving
into deep waters while avoiding thin whips
from banks and boats. It’s a turn-about fact
that trout are here today, gone tomorrow
without leaving a trace.
So let us plow paths, make bubbles
and live with great gusto!
So many fish in this stone cold river,
but you’d recognize me from my torpedo shape
and my one dress: a blue-green rainbow
with a pink streak along my sides, white underbelly,
bespattered with black spots on back and fins
like stars sprinkling a winter sky.
All day and night I swim here
where wavelets call to one another,
where the water curls around a bend,
where a moon bent rests her light head
in the wet bosom of night.
The longer I’m here, the higher
I leap and arch and hurl manes of flying spray
into fresh water. Such joy in flying high
toward blue cloud-ruffled skies, then diving
into deep waters while avoiding thin whips
from banks and boats. It’s a turn-about fact
that trout are here today, gone tomorrow
without leaving a trace.
So let us plow paths, make bubbles
and live with great gusto!