Sweat dripped down the collar of my thin
shirt, making it cling to my back.
I could hear rustling in the vines
draped eloquently over the small creek.
God knows what kind of snakes
lived in the dense Amazon jungle.
It seemed like a green, moving tunnel
as I navigated my rough dugout canoe
along the slow water.
I could hear the small waterfall
before I could see it.
As I rounded the tight bend
I could see it.
The water spilling twenty feet
in a thin yet rigorous fashion.
My delight at the beauty
turned to excitement as
I peered over the edge of my craft
down into the swirling water.
I clasped my spear
into my calloused hand
and sat motionless.
The small blue fish circled
through the swirling mass
and I let loose a mighty jab.
Success!
The small fish was speared dead on.
I moved my spear and it's guts
spread blue through the water.
The water stopped.
I looked up.
I needed to close the lid on
my washing machine
to advance to the agitation cycle.
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