Around the Corner

autumn trees against blue sky


Farmer Brown left his field, left it to David and Danny

To follow the creek to where mystery streams

Narrow in the shallows.

A creature scuttles forth, pinching and pleasing.

“What is it?” whispers David.

“A fish, a crawling fish,” says Danny,

Folding on his knees at the bank’s edge

And stretching his hand over the water,

Then hesitating,

Frightened to the pinch but thrilled to the shell,

Thick and calcified.

“Why is it?” his brother whispers,

And Danny dips his fingers in the creek, just an inch,

Enough to glimpse.


Danny’s son grasps the playpen frame, strongly pulling up,

Quickly he finds his feet while Danny turns the corner

To grab a rake.

Danny rounds back the corner; his son’s eyes grip the sky,

Full to cloud rollovers

Across autumn’s vast blue ceiling;

Then Danny sees sidewise, his father’s black hair,

An instant, like the crawfish dart.


Too quickly, my son, you yearn upward;

I turn the corner, and you’re gone.

Daily Post Prompt Giant: life looms large, yet our human connects and disconnects are fragile, fleeting.


Leave a Reply to Catherine Hamrick Cancel reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.