Sitting in a rocker
on the porch that overlooks
a friend's backyard and garden
this August afternoon
my thoughts are soothed
by the dry heat
the rustling oaks
the sound of water
sloshing in the little waterfall
my friend has made
with piled up rocks
and with a grey ceramic fish
complete with gills and scales
and whose mouth spouts
a steady stream that falls
into the pool below

The fish seems old and wise
and I'm reminded
of the fisherman
whose nets brought in a fish
who begged release
and promised to fulfill
whatever wishes the fisherman
might wish

The tale ends with the fisherman
back in his hovel
poor as when he started
having overshot the mark
asking for more
than any mortal should expect
from even a fish as generous
as this one

For myself there's nothing
I can think to ask for
save perhaps another decade
of passably good health
and then if possible
an easy death
but for my grandchildren
and for the suffering world
there's so much more I'd ask
if such a fish
should chance to find itself
caught in my net