Big Red
Our pond is a symphony of stories.
Dug twenty feet from our home
in the horse pasture that long before
had been part of a forest.
I look across at the totem that Vic built
in a piece of old growth cedar that had
been sitting in his yard.
What do you see in it? I asked
A Thunderbird, he replied.
Across from that are big leafed plants three feet high,
maybe a hundred of them that monopolize a twelve foot hill,
a present from Miriam many years ago that was
one plant in a small pot that fit in my palm.
Most years I send her a photo saying something
like The kids done grown up!
The first tree that I planted in the whole yard was a willow
to the south that once had orange paint on it
when we returned from a long trip and
turned out to be a swastika.
The neighbors urged me to call the police
but I wanted to figure it out for myself and
proved my mettle as a detective.
After a talk with the guilty kids
and parents there is now a peace pole
and shrub nearby that the boys planted as a
token of redemption and understanding.
And then there’s Big Red that I haven’t seen this year.
A monument to survival, he may have met his demise.
I used to put fifty feeder fish a year in the pond. They were small
and grey but grew large and beautifully orange/red
until the herons would pick off every one of them.
I outsmarted them and got a dozen fish too large for herons to eat.
The first night I heard the angry snarls of raccoons decimating
most of them but not Big Red and one other unnamed motley colored fish.
They were survivors and have lasted many years.
I have a tinge of sadness as the water surface is still
but still I have some hope because I know Big Red
knows how to hide.
Yet I also know that the pond reflects all our lives
and the transitory nature of all sentient beings.
We’re here for a while and then go the way of Big Red.
