A butterfly flutters through a maze of waving tall grass
Weaving its course unafraid of any threat,
While dancing to the music of nature’s breath.

Perched on man-built pilings that hold back the Bay
A seagull patiently studies the incoming tide
For the measly offerings polluted waters may abide.

An old man sits on a rock like the bird on the pilings
His young granddaughter holds tight the rod at his side
Her hair whisked cross her face like the wind on the tide.

“Papa, you’ve caught one – the line is taut”
“No,” he responds, “the fish is too small.
Our table can suffer for the sake of all.”

AJD, 5/22/2016