School of Earth: Who teaches, who is taught, and who serves as show-and-tell?

sweetest clear stream musics through
a maze of colored descending rocks
they wade confidently about
luxuriating in boyhood’s summer

one, a little older, pauses sharp
indicating some flatter stones
where water’s quick but shallow
motioning silence, he raises one slow

only a tiny swirl of dirt dust
clouds the view beneath
not satisfied he tries another
three stones he lifts, each gentler

finally the fourth rises unhazy
the younger boys peer agape
like when hitting a ball to the outfield
there unveiled: a 2-inch long crayfish

brown and amazing, a miniature lobster
too surprised yet to scurry
somehow, skill beyond his age
he plucks it up a finger pon each side

he holds it eye-height, magnanimous
so all his charges marvel a look
the thing has long probing whiskers
and its claws look like business

soon one is asking how much they hurt
not much, the showmaster takes the bait
it’s just a little guy, Timmy
tiny pincers, here I’ll show you guys

letting his finger hover near the weapon
an educative air… till fuck
that creature clamped like time was ending
and he screamed full volume unscripted

he flung his hand, whipped instinctive
the monster hurled fifteen feet downstream
darting off after splash landing
to uproarious laughter a full minute

back to the bikes they conclude groupwise
they’d conquered all there was to know here
set to planning a princely afternoon
involving Ring Dings™, and Milky Ways™, and soda

_______RS

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