(after Kathleen Lynch—and for her, too)

1. Go to the river.
Hunger for the current.
Lean into the water.
Listen.
Inhale the sound
deep into your being.

2. Find the smallest twigs.
Construct a delicate frame,
a basket to contain the tiniest
of hearts and other organs.

3. Fashion fins
(1 for each side plus 1 tail),
2 eyes and 1 wide mouth.
Add a strong desire
for winged insects.

4. Empty your heart
into the silver skin,
the deflated gills.
Breathe into its mouth;
feel the little being
swell in your hands.

5. Wade into the river
up to your calves;
feel this new life flop
in your fingers.
Set it gently in the shallows.

6. Watch it take its first lungfuls
of the water of its ancestors.
Admire the sheen of its scales.
Note the quick flick
of its muscular tail.

7. Think: gone.

•••

(Inspired by—and offered as a prompt to my writing groups—one of my favorite poems, “How to Build an Owl,” by masterful Sacramento poet Kathleen Lynch / http://www.timestenpoets.org/lynch/owl.htm )