The worm twisted down-stream into the depths of the
pool-
There was no answering flash
Of a white trout-belly to meet it.
When I peered into the water, hoping to see the pink
Fins of a trout darting beneath a stone,
The pool was empty, framing only my face.
I stared at the face and the face stared back at me.
There was a frightened recognition.
We had come into the woods to lose each other.
I stared at the face till at last it melted in the dusk;
The pain melted away with it.
I turned away impersonally to watch
The sun that agilely dove beneath a cloud,
Pink as the fins of trout.
Leave a Reply