The Koi

Koi are not fish, he says.
They’re the backyard’s jewelry collection.
But they are fish, he adds.
Otherwise, why do they winter indoors,
tiny mermaids and mermen.
gliding through a summer
that’s the size of a tank,
with the same warmth,
the same flow of fresh water,
as if it were mid
-July.

He’s out there in the April chill,
preparing their environment,
draining the pond,
scouring out a mélange
of leaves, sludge and dead insects,
scraping off algae slime,
feeding it to the garden.

Then, wielding a hose like a fireman,
he blasts away at the concrete bottom
until it gleams light gray.
Then, gentler with his weapon,
he watches water spread to all corners
of the basin
like it’s glad to be back.

Next step is to resurrect plant
-life,
lilies mostly,
plants eager to promenade
the season’s pads across the surface.
And they’re followed by a dose of chlorine
to take care of the invisible.

The koi are last to appear.
They’re scooped from their tank, one by one,
and plopped into a bucket.
A moment of terror
is followed up by more swimming.

Finally, he decants the fish like wine
as amused children gather
at next door’s fence, feels a little like a god
as his charges take to the memories of months back,
reclaim their gilded life.

Food is sprinkled on the surface.
Mouths open and close in a silent hymn to him.
And the backyard sparkles.
Living suits jewelry well.