Fish Tale

Once
I bought two goldfish
at a dime store
downtown.
They lived
in a glass bowl
on my dresser...
for a while.
Then,
I set them free.
We lived on Spring Street.
The spring,
in my backyard,
did not bubble.
It seeped...
from underground,
into the pool
of mossy stones
someone built
long before I was born.
The goldfish were tired,
I guessed,
of swimming in dizzy circles.
They needed
fall leaves floating
like little boats
above them,
and lightning bugs
blinking overhead.
They needed
to be serenaded
by a bullfrog quartet.
They needed
to feel ripples caused
by dragonfly wings...
and see raindrops
make dimples
in the water.
I knew this;
so I knelt on the stone wall
and tilted their bowl...
careful, careful...
and they slipped over the lip
into the spring
where they grew
and grew...
twice as long
as the length of my hand.
I visited,
putting my face
near the surface.
Their orange tails
waved lazily.
Freedom
suited them
just fine.