Sitting on a Rock by an Eddy

Sitting on a rock by an eddy
Watching the water swirl slowly
Leaving and returning
Like I do with my thoughts
Frustrated by the heaping mass
Of ‘No Trespassing’ and ‘Private Properties’
In a terrain and land designed for exploring
Much like the heart’s potential
Just waiting to be found, unlocked
At least this Sleepy little Hollow is public
Much like skin and open eyes
The water is immensely clear here
Much like absolutely nothing
In a human’s life

I admire a spider, protective
Of its sneaky, well-placed web
…’Admire’ likely isn’t the right word
But I can say with accuracy that I watch it.
By my count, 17 once avionic snacks
await, fluttering softly in the breeze
But stuck, nonetheless. And quite dead
Much like an old, barely reminiscent
Version of myself. Discarded and
Decomposing in some natural sticky grave

The spider scurried out in a tizzy
Having looked at the web, looked at me
And my proximity to it’s trap
Along with the stockpile of meals
Voiced some obscenities toward me
Like an old man grumbling
More to himself than to anyone else
About kids these days and no respect!
Then scampered off beneath my leg
Trying to push me off its rock

My attention shifts beyond my shoes
Juvenile fish dart and scatter below
Almost faster than my eyes can follow
Almost. Such youthful energy and vigor!
Such naivety. And short-sightedness
Such purity. Such agility. Such fun.
Meanwhile, a singular grandfather fish
Barely moves, sitting on the bottom
Not four feet away from my dangling feet
I can see wisdom in the subtle movements
I imagine hearing - or do hear -
A gentle, scratchy, admonishing
Voice come bubbling up: “See
Let the river - the natural flow
Do most of the work, to get
You where you need to go. Move and
Strike of volition only when necessary”
So steady. Undeterred even by my
Flashy, unpredictable movements
A lesson here: Don’t fear
the environment. Observe it.
And act decisively and accordingly
Wise, gentle grandfather fish, Thank you.

A poor bug wallows restlessly
Fell in the drink - can’t escape
The surface tension. It’s amoebic
Shadow blubs and blurbs across
The streams’ shallow sandy floor —
Imprinted by the harsh sun’s penetration
I used to squirm unproductively like that
Completely unaware of how ridiculous
My shadow self made me

Speaking of the sun’s forceful rays
Why is applying sun block
Such a chore. I. HATE. IT.
I adore the sun. It helps plants
Grow. Why would it harm me
20 minutes and I succumb to logic
And recent conversations with a dermatologist
My skin is hot and I apply
90 proof cream to exposed skin
It’s not so bad and I don’t
Know why I make such a big deal of it

A mallard duck eyes me, approaches
Keeping its other wary eye upon
A large dog on the shore
I admire its webbed feet paddling
I glance at the dufus dog sniffing dirt
And wonder why a far less superior
’Water’ animal got to coin the term
…Kids should first learn to ‘Duckie Paddle’

Seemingly satisfied, acknowledging
My acknowledgment of the underrated
Water prowess of the Anas Platyrhynchos
With suddenness, the duck scoots away
To the middle of the stream it goes
Floating down a set of rapids, laughing
The entire way about K9s’ irrelevance
This mallard is obviously a comedian
By trade, and is having the time of its life

A fly fisherman exits the waters
Stands on a rock, elevated, at one
Of the streams edgy elbows
Surveying, internally asking, pleading
Almost begging one of the local fish
To jump out and say “We’re over here!”
With a fin beckoning in that direction
I wave and nod to him and think,
”Get in line bub. We’re all waiting
For the universe to tell us
Exactly where to go next”
No luck, he departs
Leaving the scene completely
...I feel that

A lady emerges with rod and reel
Upstream, and she casts
And casts. And casts again
This time letting the lure troll
Downstream toward me
I watch it bob for what
Feels like minutes
Waiting with anticipation for a nibble
I’m genuinely excited, invested
To see it happen right in front of me
I see a nibble, and another
And then the eddy brings
That tiny lur…….stick
Back around in front of me
I look upstream and the lady has
Her line directly in front of her
…Nowhere close to my proximity

Life is like that. Like a tiny alluring
River stick getting imaginary bites
From imaginary fish, and then
I get close enough and realize
I had no idea what
I was looking at. Additionally
My focal point was all wrong.
I wasn’t even
Looking in the right direction


Fishing might not be for me
I decide to stick to sitting
On rocks, and writing words

I brought a beer. It’s illegal
Weighing in at 5%. Park rules
Have the weight class maximum at 3.2%
Sometimes rules seem arbitrary. Sometimes
The arbitrary is illegal. Sometimes,
Both of those things remind me of dreams

Well, a fish has flopped behind me by the shore
And is now upside down. Unmoving.
Seems fishy. I think it is unwell
Probably the sushi diet. Gets you sometimes
Maybe one of them ‘Possum Fishies
Playing dead.
More probable is that this fish is a narcissist
Attention hungry, just wanting to make the story
Earlier it was repeatedly tipping
Over on its right side. As if
Its dorsal fin was unevenly weighted
Such a Dramatic Haddock, am I right.
My, my. Look at the time.

My skin is safe

My beer is gone

Irregardless

Nature carries on

I think I’ll right-side this fish and ride my motorcycle back down the canyon and go to work.