Rik George writes

By the River 

I went down to the river to see 
the sunlight waltz across the ripples. 
The wind scattered the leaves of a tree 
hanging over the water. A man 
leaning against the trunk ate an apple. 
He gazed west as if to see Japan. 
I asked if he thought the fish could think. 
“Fish can’t think in rippling water,” 
he said, “it hypnotizes them.” 
He tossed the core. I watch it sink. 
“On moonless nights the fish think better. 
No ripple glitter distracts their minds.” 
He left. I watched the river turn pewter 
as clouds flew in on the evening winds.

Man Eating Apple -- David Cutler