the bed
is dry just enough
for a pumpkin
The creek winds its way through our village. Walking around, I always stop to look down into the creek beds—there are several—wondering what might be found there. Sometimes there’s water or ice, but usually not. There’s always rocks and leaves and golf balls! Once there was some kind of splattered animal, dark and dried out and I remember a deer drinking and a cat that was stepping its way across rocks looking up at me with curious eyes. One morning after rain, there was a small school of tiny orange fishes—the next day gone. Today, again something orange there. I took a picture. You can’t really see the pumpkin, you have to zoom in and squint a little, but the rock bed is pretty, if you like rocks.
