My Pet Poems, the Bettas
My Pet Poem, THE BETTAS
Like everyone else, I felt sorry
For the bright fish in the tiny cups,
Too many for too few homes, impossible
To think they’d not die there —
Sad,’cause it only follows:
Birds meant to fly, fish to swim.
We had a 20-gallon tank, but since
Even a single betta could
Take it over, not very nicely, and
With me being who I am,
I wanted one of those splendid bettas,
Almost more than I just
Wanted to save one from cup-death,
And give it a nice home in a 5-gallon
Tank bought just for him.
He was a red crowntail,
I named him Degas. He learned
To know me, swimming mouth to glass
When I entered the room,and
When it was his time to eat.
I’d put my face near the tank’s glass
To let him see me smile his way,
For 8 months before he died,
Making me sad,because many live 5 years,
And he was my artist of sweet.
Then, I cleaned the tank, cycling
New water, getting in turn
Over the next decade, 2 other red
Crowntails and then 2 blue, named
In order: Monet, Renoir Pissarro,
and Bogart.
And, just this past year I chose female
Bettas,who will live together,
Unlike the males. So,
The girls have “sororities.”
My new 8-gallon tank became home
To Martha and Mary, Azure and Blue,
All for obvious reasons. But,
For unknown reasons, here after 8 months
Only Azure remains.
God must have lessons to learn
From our having pet fish,
But, perhaps I think there certainly
Is something to be learned from
The daily observation of Moving Beauty
24/7, content in itself, without reward,
Ignorant of any possibility of applause,
Taking both life and death as they come.
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(c) sally Young eslinger 2021
Thanks be to God
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