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