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.