fishing

08/28/2017

worry weighs
like a lead weight 
down 
the throat 
into the pit 
of the heart

i worry for my brother 
that we do not have 
the same accent 
(and he may worry for me 
in lacking strength
with feeble arms)

that we do not see
the same color 
reflecting from the river
(leaning in to see
the tadpoles 
racing)

he says,
stop your worrying, child. 
there will be bad men 
and there will be loud men
but one thing they are not 
is immortal.

and he casts a line 
out far, (a splash)
out of the heart
(the tadpoles scurry 
away.)