Hunched Over Shallows
by Jeff Hardin
I must have looked ridiculous, hunched over
the shallows, steering a red Solo cup
behind the minnows smart enough to spurt
just past the come – up – empty sudden rush
I stumbled thick – kneed against the water’s weight.
Except when I got close, they didn’t seem
to care that I was there at all, just stilled
themselves as if the creek were thinking them.
I think it was. Just now I had that thought,
itself refracting silvered flashes out
of reach, and just as then it seems I’ll waste
all afternoon, not tire of watching thwarts
and bursts regain a poise of being there —
as if I’m not! — the keen stream flowing past.