sans wail or plaint

the trivial carp does bear a life

she claims her very own

that is not often seen

nor often well-nigh known.

she seeks her air

from breathless waters;

she holds concern for neither

sons nor able daughters.

she finds the juicy fruit that plunks

from drooping mulb’ry bush

that slants close by the sloping shore.

with greedy gaping mouth

and searching bulbous lips, she’s free

to check the stray debris,

both that that’s floating softly by—

and that that’s still and stale

and piled against the river’s

edge quite high,

both hearty and less hale …

whatever’s true and more.

she lazes in near-silent deep

where she from time to time

drifts off to nappy sleep.

and she lives her life

sans wail or plaint

and---nowhere!---not a friggin’ paltry peep.