On a stone by the river            what pools in boulders
I peer into        clear on pebbles round a stick bug
who the breeze on surface film baffles & sways
gray shadow on mud ambered under
these beings                     who hang suspended
head to spine to tail that twists & flicks
& darts curls up                           held to hover
over a leaf the pool’s turned translucent
gold-veined     a wing—
among the heads & tails—
held suspended simply                spinning
as the planet heats
what were you early        what will you become?