Some Fish are Ticklish

skipping.jpg

sounds of the song thrush
muffle the crawling croak
of the drift boat
we lie on our backs to watch
them swoop – dam busting
the fog – it kisses them briefly
as if they were passing ships
in the night or shy lovers
skimming their stones
to watch heartbeats skip

off ………..^^^into^^^ …………^^^the^^^……………^^dis^^………..^^tance^^

 trailing hands send shivering
silver threads of fish
to usher the sun’s harsh glare,
they become her roving glints
rotating their messages like bees
away from the honey pot;
their figure-eight of secret code
swims under the lake’s cool,
diaphanous skin.