Golden Giants

By Barb Germiat

Giant goldfish swimming
in Harold’s stock tank
entranced me, a little girl
who knew nothing but the farm.

Now I call them koi,
but that doesn’t make them
any less wonderful,
teasing the cows’ tongues.

On our farm, whimsy was subtle,
like yellow sugar on white frosting.
Work was hard, play was rare,
but goldfish swam next door.