River Dour Survey
Caddis larvae drag their patchwork coats—
twigs, gravel, and glittered mistakes,
bits of plastic stitched with silk.
They inch along the riverbed,
pulling their homes behind them.
I’m getting my eye in—
scooping them up
with a silver spoon, and marvelling.
Next, I stepped in slow,
waders too big in the feet,
too small to pull past my chest.
Balance never certain—
net clutched like a walking stick.
A few small shrimp,
quite a cluster of caddis,
the only ones to witness
my awkward shuffle
into something new—
but I stood there in the flow,
a little proud, and rightly so.
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