Hungry for a Poem - June 16, 2023

I stop to eye the waterfall

absorb the roar and ceaselessness

water pounding into water

oxygen caught in the crush

which makes the goldfish

as happy as I’ve seen them

waiting by the fish feeder

to drop its 4 pm load

of course no poet is that lucky

there’s no food drop or gears heard

no positional reading of the sun

to know when it’s time to eat

the meal is well-disguised

hidden in the seed

of a seedless watermelon

or a crumb left

in an empty bag of bread

or the succulent taste

of an idea

and quite often

left off the menu of memory