Branches sprawled
across the browning grass
frigid layer of ice
percolating across the river

Wind dances through the fall
air, greeting the blushed faces
and shriveled white fingers

Laughter resonates
in shared stories of
past catches,
a moss-covered catfish
hooked in the eye
above what’s left of a worm
laying dormant
on the quivering gills

His eyes fix themselves
out on the vast blue bed
fragile twigs perched atop
drinking the blue
Until, at last,
they sink
lower and lower
drowned in the mud.

His hands reach towards
the blue bed
seeking the life
inside.

His mouth
trying to grasp air,
but it dances across his lips.

His mind drifts off:
the baby bluegill,
swallowed the hook,
left, gasping,

waving with each flop,
goodbye to his old home
Covered in sand
His new grave
soon abandoned
by the laughter.