"All fish could sing," the old one said
as she scraped the scales and severed the head.
"They sang to each other their songs of dread,
of silt, of sunlight, of someone to bed,
or why the fisherman's lures of lead
were dragged through the satisfied lives they led,
were dragged through their reeds of russet and red."

For the lost songs of fish few tears are shed–
songs once sung by fish long dead.
"All fish could sing," is what she said.

 Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.