My Pet Poems, the Bettas

My Pet Poem, THE BETTAS Like everyone else, I felt sorry For the bright fish in the tiny cups, Too many for too few homes, impossible To think they’d not die there — Sad,’cause it only follows: Birds meant to fly, fish to swim. We had a 20-gallon tank, but since Even a single betta could Take it over, not very nicely, and With me being who I am, I wanted one of those splendid bettas, Almost more than I just Wanted to save one from cup-death, And give it a nice home in a 5-gallon Tank bought just for him. He was a red crowntail, I named him Degas. He learned To know me, swimming mouth to glass When I entered the room,and When it was his time to eat. I’d put my face near the tank’s glass To let him see me smile his way, For 8 months before he died, Making me sad,because many live 5 years, And he was my artist of sweet. Then, I cleaned the tank, cycling New water, getting in turn Over the next decade, 2 other red Crowntails and then 2 blue, named In order: Monet, Renoir Pissarro, and Bogart. And, just this past year I chose female Bettas,who will live together, Unlike the males. So, The girls have “sororities.” My new 8-gallon tank became home To Martha and Mary, Azure and Blue, All for obvious reasons. But, For unknown reasons, here after 8 months Only Azure remains. God must have lessons to learn From our having pet fish, But, perhaps I think there certainly Is something to be learned from The daily observation of Moving Beauty 24/7, content in itself, without reward, Ignorant of any possibility of applause, Taking both life and death as they come. ———————————————————————————————————- (c) sally Young eslinger 2021 Thanks be to God