Duckweed

June 2 prompt: for Writer's Cramp.

I believe I was fourteen years old,
I might have forgotten the exact year of that summer
that I went fishing, along with my dad

for duckweed.

Armed with a rake, I fished,
created a pile
that sinked in, and grew
every week, all summer long.

I had fun, fishing, without harming the fish
creating air for them, to breathe

as my father worked the vegetable garden

I did not know by then
that it would be the last season
as the owner of that land
sold his ground

sheep don't eat duckweed.

20 lines, true story.