by DS Maolalai

river’s alive. trout all over
wriggling, silver as coins.
as old money – punts –
stags and other animals.
do you remember?
something in that
making currency –
dignity and animals.
we had something there. knew
what was value. the leaping fish.
seabirds. a horse cast in copper.
over the river, trees hang limp
as laundry from a line –
all willow leaves. the air verdigris –
sunlight in between.
aodhain casts – I cast
and reel. nothing comes
though we see beneath
the fishes. we settle down,
drink beer from flasks
while aodhain looks for fossils.
we all have interests – silver
scales in shallows, grey stones
encased in shale, encased in time
as it is displayed to us.