Sometimes

        I go to the shallows
        of Old Seventy creek
        when the sun    
        shines like a flashlight
        through the shadows
        trees,
        bent over the banks,
        make.

        I go to the shallows
        of Old Seventy Creek
        with the purpose
        of turning over rocks
        to see what hides
        beneath.
            
        Many times
        a crawldad,
        swimming backward,
        escapes,
        or a salamander,
        its dots
        easier to follow
        than the crawldad’s
        frantic exit.

        Sometimes,
        I find what I seek,
        a snail darter,
        the endangered
        minnow
        some called ugly,
        with stripes across
        its back
        and down like
        a poem moves.