I notice the sun duck behind clouds and blue
sky turns gray. I feel the last of winter
finger its way between the sliding glass
doors as shoppers enter and leave. V8 juice
costs eighteen cents an ounce, my yogurt brand’s
not available and the distilled water shelves empty.
The phone rings. My son wants to borrow the truck.
He’s just back from fly-fishing. Two avocados
run five dollars and fifty cents. He hooked
a fourteen-inch native rainbow trout. I bag
my groceries to leave the store with one hand
on the phone. He watched fish swim up North
Creek to spawn then beheld an entire school jump
the falls, heading upstream, right under his line.
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