Arts + Scene » Poetry

Zig Zag Trail August 1, 2015

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In that pool, right there,

we told the stranger,

you can see them,

the great fish

spawning in winter

when the rains come.

That morning a brown haze dimmed the sun,

ashes fell from the sky

through air still and hot.

When the water comes down the creek,

the fish move up from the sea to spawn.

When the rains come,

if.


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