The Creek

Lifting smooth gray stones
under cool, moving water
looking for crayfish.

First this, then another,
until one is shown.
A young one.

Fingers snap through
rigid spray,
opaque in frenzy
...caught, subdued.

The excitement is real,
but reality turns.

If I keep this being,
it will wither and die
...or I let it go,

It goes,
returning to the stream’s anatomy
as before,

and I am still here
turning stones.

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

You have a way of absorbing your reader, drawing them into the nuance of the moment. This was truly engaging to read, even though I have never been cray fishing. On the other hand, I know with absolute certainty, I would have returned it to the stream from whence it came!

[Alexa Apothic Red]

Wow, I love this! Once again, I love the simple look at the beauties in the outdoors. As I read, I could hear the water going over these stones. The line about the stream's anatomy is just brilliant! I love thinking of it in that way, like a body, every moving and fluid as it naturally is... Also, you ended it beautifully: "and I am still here, turning stones." The rhythm and phrasing, as always with your writing, were perfect! Nice, easy-going, peaceful piece to read.