Sharing the Rock

A long time ago, in a state park
alongside the Delaware river
I stood on a rounded boulder
child-high above the water,
man-long from edge to woods,
and cast bait into the flow.
The sun was up, the day hot.
The fish were reluctant consumers.
I’d tossed several torn-up minnows
behind me onto the massive stone.
Focused on my line-holding fingers
I ignored the trees behind me
until something made me turn.
Four inches from the minnows and
five feet from me was a rattlesnake.
Its only movement was tongue flicker
sniffing the bait, but its coils suggested
that the mammal bully might interfere
with its plans for boulder-top dining.
I thought for a second about sharing the rock
but couldn’t turn away from four feet of snake
and after a few more rapid heartbeats
threw another dead minnow onto the stone,
slid off the boulder and onto the shore
and waded upstream to try and find
another rock to call my own.