The Creek

the father of two
watches
the heron

the heron
watches
the water

the baby writhes
silently
in her carrier

lungs swell
inside
the heron’s chest

imagined
minnows
pass

the setting sun
extends a bit
upriver

lights
the reeds
and boulders

and the bobbing
cloud of
bugs

to which
the tiny
fish

must
lift their tiny
mouths

First published in The Fiddlehead.

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