Carol Pearce-Worthington

Shiners

Sunlight wavers in the shallows of Lake Minibelle. The tiny shadows swarm and spin quick as thoughts. My father knows just how to do this and swoops them up in his bucket. As a boy in Wisconsin he skirted cows and manure piles to reach a pasture creek in search of chubs that spilled over rocks in shallow water, watching for his cork to dive, grabbed by a silver flash of life so small so transparent that he sees only the red marker dash suddenly downstream.

Let them go, I plead, of these Minibelle shiners, flinging themselves against the lid of his bucket.

last dance
the drumming
of trapped minnows