The Flea

There was a stick in a stream steeped in mud, immobile and old.  There was an ordinary flea sitting on it.

The stream went under the flea on the stick slowly, and a light breeze made the leaves ruffle on a tree nearby.

There was a fish in the stream wagging its tail.  The fish was by the stick in the mud and it wagged its tail slightly to counter-act the flow of the stream.  The fine mud swirled at its tail.

There was a hovering bird in the sky.  It moved its wings against the gentle breeze.  It hovered above the stick and the flea and the fish.

This took a moment, and in a moment the bird had flown away, the fish had swum beyond the stick, and the flea was gone as if snatched away by an invisible hand.

Published by

David Hammond

David Hammond lives and dreams in Virginia with his wife, two daughters, one dog, three rats, and a multitude of insects. During the day, he makes websites. More of his writing and a list of his publications can be found at oldshoepress.com.

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