It was just a couple of days ago. I was coming down Shore Blvd. from 58th St. S., soaking wet from the downpour. Not one street puddle escaped my notation as I ran. I was dying to check them all out but had only just found my stride. I tried hard to ignore them but hey, I'm a four year old when it comes to this sort of stuff. One big puddle called my name down the street behind Sea Breeze Manor. It reached from the middle of the front yard out to the middle of the brick road. There was an overhang of tree canopy and of course, a cement covered culvert; a magical pool. I had to stop and look for tadpoles, so I took a hard-to-port and slowed as I came to quiet pool's edge in the road.
I bent low and like a patient heron, watched. There was activity, little flips, flops, and plops. The glare from the cloud cover made it difficult to discern what it was. A better position was needed. Preferring the long way, I waded around the pond's shoreline. With each slow and deliberate step, the water rippled ahead of me as many-somethings swam ahead, and out of my path. I stopped in the flooded yard, near the culvert where again, I watched like the heron. The tadpoles were there, given way by their movements. Only visual confirmation was needed to satisfy my curiosity and then, there they were. OMG, there were so many of them and imagine my surprise when before my eyes, not what I expected at all but rather, fish.
