A Quiet Night Fishing in the Middle of a Creek

a wisp o' wind down
from the trees
skims cross the
dark unassuming
flat surface of
the water.
picking up speed
what could be
a firefly catches
the current but
at this distance
it looks to be
a tiny ball of light
flittering silently over
the water, it patters
the placid creek
a slight perturbation
of the shape an elevation
that becomes braille
for the blind who
scanning the sheet
with their hands
search for meaning
but glean nothing
yet continue to glide
into the horizon

The old fishermen
only know the big fish
they reel up from below
Rocking calmly on
the surface of the creek

the wind still wisps across the water