Not a Poem About a Fish

A dark red leaf

Falls on my orange shirt

And is blown

Down to the dried-out lawn

There, many dark red leaves

Are snagged by the spiky grass and thistle

A winged insect

Teases pollen from a clover flower

And an ant

Whizzes across the cracks and chasms

Of its giant landscape

And, as often happens,

I am distracted from the poem

That I am trying to compose.

A poem about a fish