M

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Salmon Don’t Care

We are counting spawning salmon,

wading cold Finnegan Creek in December.

Once spoiled by man but now left alone,

Finnegan is patiently reverting.

We are pleased the fish are here again,

a big one comes slowly drifting back.

She is spent from the long journey to nest,

soon she will die, returning her nutrients to nature.

We are awed.  We are sad.

We are ecstatic.  We are proud.  It is exciting.

For only a very brief moment did I understand

that the dying salmon doesn’t care.

What a presumptuous group we were.