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Stingray MAG
The first time I fell in love
With nature, I was young, and I was on vacation.
We were at the aquarium, and the moist rocks
Soaked my tank top as I lay on my belly,
Crouched down to the edge of the pool.
I gently set my fingertips down into the clear-as-day water.
I was tingling in anticipation.
Stingrays surrounded me, beautiful, flimsy gray butterflies
Gracefully flying around in their own sky.
I willed them with my eyes to let me join in on their carelessness,
Their easygoing ways.
Suddenly, one came up to me, basking in my undivided
Attention. It glided past my hand,
Barely grazing my fingertips.
My breath caught in my throat.
It was as soft as velvet, a bit slimy,
But for sure the greatest experience of my short life.
And then, as soon as it had come up to me, the stingray flew away,
Raising its skin, and tapped the water, as if to say
Farewell.
And then it disappeared into the throng,
Enjoying its freedom in that tiny little pool.
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