Into the Mud

Sun

slant low,

chill seeps into black

water. No more days of bugs

and basking. Last breath, last sight

of light and down I go, into the mud. Every

year, here, I sink and settle, shuttered like a

shed.  Inside, my eyes close, my heart slows

to its winter rhythm.  Goodbye, good-

bye! Remember the warmth. 

Remember the quickness.

Remember me.

Remember.