I saw you and called you a waterway,

Must be navigable, the definition says.

You look so still, sealed over with shocking lime duckweed,

hiding your small surface.

What navigates you?

The ducks kick through and over you, as your covering of choked plant-life

splits then reforms as they pass.

The beaver from down the way visits you

And splashes through you in the dark while no one sees.

Insects, frogs, snails, animals that I could never know thrive within you.

But you are very very small.  I cannot navigate you.

You are not a waterway.


Sue Skidmore Sept. 2018