The Teacher
The little, local flood receded
And left a stunned, muddied crayfish
On the hiking trail beside the creek.
He was feeble, sun-dried,
Weakly putting one leg forward, then another.
A small, dirty, dying crustacean
And yet there seemed to me something noble
In his relentless effort to move, to breathe,
To live just one more day.
I resolved to give him a hand
And throw him back into the creek,
But I was on a timed run
And figured to do it on my way back.
When I got back he was gone.
Had someone done the job for me?
Likely.
I sincerely hope so.
But I was abashed, not absolved
And I took a lesson
That must have been intended
Somewhere in the cosmic machinery
Not to ever again postpone
A chance to help
A fellow traveler on our road
In his time of need.
— Andrew Hubbard, Brown County