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First Impression
Sunbathing
on a moss
slathered rock,
I watched
the
children search for
me with desperation. Just one little nibble, one quick snap, I pondered.
Stories wiggled through their minds reminding them of my lurking
presence below. I admired how cautiously
they doused the tips of their toes on the top of the
water, creating ripples that sent tiny fish ushering under
the pier. I won’t hurt them, I thought, as I dove beneath the parallel
bottoms of the younglings feet. Meticulously dipping and purposeful swirls
of happy feet. Just an introduction, I crept back onto my rock untouched and
unharmed. I stalked them until the sun touched the tops of the trees,
when the children took the rickety rowboat and fishing gear out on
the pond. The belittled body of water settled into a flattened paradise,
where the seaweed looked frozen still underneath. We
listened for the rhythmed splashing of a reeled-in catch,
debating what fish next would be snatched next.
When the crickets belted their traditional song,
I heard the hum of voices at night. It fluttered
melodically with the bonfire flames that lit the night.
I etched onto the seat of my rock,
listening to the stories revealed
at night coated with
laughter and nostalgia. Life’s wonder painted the blades
of grass and gleamed
into the night.
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