I crouched beside the deepest pool,
and the smell of damp and moss
rose rich between my knees. Water-striders
creased the silver-black silky surface.
Rapt, I hardly breathed. Gnats
roiled in a shaft of sun.

Back again after supper I’d see
a nose poke up by the big flat stone
at the lip of the fall: then the humped
eyes and the slippery emerald head,
freckled brown. The buff membrane
pulsed under the jaw while
subtleties of timing played in my mind.

With a patience that came like grace
I waited. Mosquitoes moaned all
around. Better to wait. Better to reach
from behind…It grew dark.

I came into the warm, bright room
where Father held aloft the evening 
paper, and there was talk, and maybe
laughter, though I don’t remember laughter.