POEM #9: Nocturnal Hunting

It is night and below me

is a stream enveloped in darkness.

It had rained hours ago

the water swift but clear now to my naked eye.

My guide carried a kerosene lamp;

a scoop net held by the other hand;

I followed, wary and alert;

for snakes abound here waiting for prey.

I grasped my knife in its sheath;

the cold steel of the blade

reassures me though that it is alright.

Walking behind the guide with the bright lamp,

he made the night look like daylight;

boosting my confidence, aiding my sight.

A nudge from a foot

the shrimp leaped to its fate into the net.

After an hour or two

I counted an honest catch of twenty-two.

These became part of a midnight dinner

under a dark cloudy sky

by a camp made warm by a fire.