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The Silver Fish

I was alone all that hot, dry summer.
Too restless to stay indoors I walked and
walked, killing time with motion. I remember
that Sunday was scorching and a brass band

playing in the park by the river. I
walked the long way round. Why not? Time was the
thing I had too much of. The sun, high
overhead, beat down remorselessly

with an intense white light. I suppose this
is why the usually dark, dirty
water was pellucid, transparent. Fish –
enormous silver fish – in groups of three

or four, formed circles, noses together,
breaking the surface of the water to
gasp for air. Everywhere along the
bank people marveled. Blue damsel flies flew

zig-zagging around the river adding
beauty to the scene. Awe and joy touched me –
as if gods had come among us, singing.
I had not known there were so many.

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