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By Rodney Rountree
circa 1990
(Poem #19 from "Poem Time Capsule")

I've never heard a sound so sweet
As a cusk-eel croaking to his mate.
Eagerly waiting in the sand,
Only his bumpy head exposed,
He earnestly sings for any lady who happens by.
But coyly he borrows deeper still,
When one takes the bait,
Until she, with anxious kisses, draws him to her side.

His long, soft whiskers caress her back,
As their bodies intertwine.
And with each kiss she changes course,
Not sure of where to swim.
And soon she forgets that she's a fish
And reaches for the sky.

Her head reared up,
Her back arched back,
She gulps in the salty air.
Then sinking back into the sea,
She spies a shrimp and goes off to feed,
While nearby a cusk-eel sings his song again,
For another long, slim, and whiskered beauty.

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