Flat, jagged-edged rocks,
piled just so, turned
the creek into a pond.
Crawfish lurked under
water-worn stones
landlocked lobsters,
pincers big enough
to nab little fingers
if you weren’t careful.
Lift a stone off the bottom,
raise a cloud of watery dust,
reveal a haven for more
creatures, names unknown,
blinking in the light. It’s safe
under stones, so I leave them
alone, trusting these little
things to come out okay,
I like to think that God
has a firmer grasp of
the details, despite the
Devil’s errant claim to same.
