Fertile Creek

Invisible from sea level,

Poppy seed bugs jump from inch

To inch, flimsy legs buoyant

To the unbroken shadowy green.

Quick crawdads climb

Their camouflaging boulders.

Clumsy, I dunk my left that slid

From its shaky step

And the cool damp smothers

The shoe as it interrupts

The wet feathery flow.

My squeaky sneakers—dirty

Leather ruined by the glossy

Slick stones as they catch

The soil-filled ridges of the soles

Beneath my twinkle toes.

I grip the helpful branch, the hand

To steady me,

Settle my foot on the sturdy bank,

My soggy landing place.

I count the rings

Of my tree-trunk seat, then

Rest. A blade of calf-high grass,

A martyr for my bird calls.

I smell the soil—fertile

On the banks.