Thank you, oh merciful professor of poetry and trout
for the silvers, pinks, browns, and greens,
yellows, blacks, whites, and keen
eyes sensing fate after the flies haul bodies
from the world into depths unknown.

Perhaps a twist here, jiggle there will shake them back
to home. They learn wrestling with destiny is for naught.
Listen, now, to the verses flowing
beneath the rocks. God's words take them home.