I glide through the Wabash river.

I look above me and I see the reflection of my sleek body.

Sharp rocks and jagged rubble scrape against my belly,

leaving small cuts and a trace of fresh blood.

Sunlight gleams through the surface, 

leaving my shadow on the floor below.

Near me I hear the familiar roar of a boat,

swiftly I dodge the hook, 

the one that could mark my demise.

Frantically, I keep moving forward with fear echoing within me.

The frigid calls of eagles above,

as their predatory rituals surround me.

As I continue my journey up the river,

I hit the slashing, violent rapids.

The water feels like fresh glue,

and I barely make progress.

Salient edges of driftwood pierce the surface,

narrowing the path before me.

The slipstream bends,

and the rumble of water ceases.

My stomach grumbles like an earthquake,

I see a tail gliding back and forth in the murky water next to a dead tree stump.

I approach diligently from behind, gaining ground.

I snap forward but miss, and I head disheartenedly down the slipstream.