My father, age ten,
sneaks down to the pond
on a lazy Saturday
to find crawdads basking under rocks
Brave cowboy
inching along with
Audie Murphy and Hopalong
at his side
Peeks over the rise
and there, rising up like a god,
wingspan overshadowing the waters
--rare bird once thought to be extinct
Boy entranced by Nature, this
awesome mythic creature
neverbeforeglimpsed curiosity
Naturally, he takes a stick and pokes it
What happened then, Dad? I say
as our boat drifts, pontoons
scraping hollowly against
the brush where crappie lurk
Yes, what then? says Andrew,
watching watergliders skitter across the
green-black water. I shiver in the breeze,
impatient for the punchline.
Nothing, my father replies,
surprised at our naivete.
I'd killed it deader than 4:00.
We troll gently, gulls banking overhead.
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