Della Counts the Rings — In the reed pool, where cattails smelled like rain-wet straw, Della made a game for slow afternoons. Read the full story →
In the reed pool, where cattails smelled like rain-wet straw, Della made a game for slow afternoons. She would breathe once, nudge the water with the tip of her long beak, and count how many rings reached the lily pads before fading. One ring kissed a stem. Two rings wrinkled under a beetle. Three rings slid away in silver lines. Della wanted to make a ripple that traveled all the way across the quiet pool without hurrying it.
She tried smaller nudges. She tried waiting until the reeds stopped ticking against each other. The sun warmed her back, and little drops fell from her fins with soft plip sounds. “Not yet,” she whispered, though no one had asked. She floated so still that a dragonfly landed on a cattail and cleaned its glassy wings.
Then the twist came from below: the lily pads began answering. Their round leaves tipped one after another, not from Della’s nudge, but from tiny fish brushing their stems in the mud. Della’s patient rings met the hidden fish-rings, and together they crossed the pool like a secret message. Next time you see the lily pads beside her, can you trace where her game and the river’s game meet?
