Minnows nibble on my toes

as I sit in Clark’s Creek

where it deepens to my waist,

and runs slow a few miles

below the bridge into town.

It is spring, and the trees hang

their new leaves over the creek

like a secret green cave

where all answers are contained.

I am nine years old, and happy.

I know nothing beyond myself.

Catfish hide in the tree’s roots

that uncoil into the creek,

as copperheads and moccasins

slide past unnoticed nearby.

(April 12, 2024)