In that summer
a forest of tall weeds
grew faintly visible
beneath the waves,
before the dock,
beyond my sun-bathed back.

In the swaying weed forest
mixed with my dappled shadow
a huge bass approached
regally twinning weeds and rays,
weaving a soft weft of motion,
routing a court of ten siblings.

They came to me.

Parted my shadow.

Ignored my feet.

Slid beneath my dock.

I still feel their skins
passing through mine,
their shine reflecting a summer,
twinning now some weeds in my mind.