It’s a long way down to the river clay
past ancient hovering dragonflies
solemn over watershine,
past lily pads festooned with tendrils,
river reeds swaying like jonquils
and slick green banks of fairy shrimp
and caddisflies. Follow the flash
of slow blue gills across the dance
of salt and silt, all the way
down through the pondweed and cattails
to the bubble and ooze of all beginning.
This is the kingdom of the slippery prince,
majestic on his muddy throne;
in his throat, a golden ball,
the world he knew before our own.
