wet secrets

a hidden stream is wrested

from the verdant vegetation

and tumbles noisily down

a set of cool stone steps,

giving voice to the secrets

of its endless, cyclic travels.

secrets of strange lands

and thunderstorms and seas.

secrets–now borne on

the whispering wind.

–photo by aaron

born-again bass

to people, the spring

is a rebirth of life,

but to bass in the lake,

it’s a rebirth of light.

for many long months,

they lie caught in the grip

of the cold and the dark,

and with no fellowship.

what a glorious day,

when the sunlight pours in,

and at last, all the bass

are absolved of their sin.

–photo by me