Suddenly my wife said, "Look!"
and I turned just in time to see
a flash of brilliant emerald
fly under the bridge
but not out the other side.
Many times we returned to that bridge.
We longed to see him again
maybe perched motionless on a twig
scanning the river below for his prey,
unsuspecting minnows and sticklebacks,
or diving, an iridescent meteor,
into the brown waters
But he never came back.
This king of fishers,
lethal killer in miniature regal pomp,
wasn't there for our benefit,
he existed only for himself:
was interested in us only insofar as
we interfered with his hunting.
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