On boyhood’s bare calves

Wellies that thwack in summer heat

Bring raw red rings of stings 

While water gushes

Gurgling, it finds a hole

To soggy a sock or two

A causeway of slimy stones

As green as beer bottles

Shattered and scattered

Leads fresh-faced fisher folk

By tyres and rusty prams

To delve the deepest pools

Net heaves on bamboo cane

Wrestled to the bank are

Fins and gills and bragging rights

This spiny inch of beauty

A living trophy from a perfect day

Ichthyic, beloved and mine

The salmon of all knowledge

Leaping through my mind

An aquatic sage, valuates the catch

Above any piscine prize

That might shimmer and splash

Beyond my jam jar’s wall 

Photograph: This is Zimmy the Fish. He isn’t THE fish in the poem but he isn’t just A fish either. He was a much loved family member for almost ten years and we miss him very much.