Fish Burial

A Fish Dies

A child

Runs and stops, alert.

Look Look I found a fish on the shore

Is it dead?

It is dead. And she softly buries the body

in a puddle of sand

dug with driftwood

and a pink and black glitter on the stone

marking the spot.

Unnoticing of course

that by tomorrow that stone

will be anonymous.

Like the dead,

like the living,

one among many.

Still,

beautiful.

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