No Turtles Yet

We went down to the water where we looked like old age and played like first timers. We found a salamander, then two and contemplated cannibals that snatch beneath decomposing leaves. A water scorpion blended in and didn’t take kindly to the pokes of our dried out sticks. A school of fish eluded us and swam to deeper water as our shadows eclipsed their playground. We circled the pond, looking for bigger life, for something to hold or swordfight. Dead grass clung to our jeans and the skippers skimming the water panicked as we got closer; they skated in manic circles, unaware of the scorpions below the surface, resting and waiting to end the dance. Two salamanders took to mating at the tip of my stick, which I had eased in, to point them out. And every now and then, the wind would obscure our view of the busy world below but we stood on those soggy banks and waited for the water to settle.