The River on Sunday

I drove to the river on Sunday.
 I sat in the stream and got wet.
The sun on my shoulders so blazing
 and there was no shade there to get.
A baby fish swam all around me, then darted off, where? I know not.
I saw it and then it was not there, had swam away deep in the rocks.
I also saw gold on a white quartz, a small shiny fleck, just the one.
I wanted to hold it, but somehow, I looked again and it was gone.
But I know what I saw in the water,
 the baby fish, yes, and the gold.
and no one can tell me I faked it, and no one can say I'm too old
to still dream that something could happen, so fragile, and precious, and new
to me as I sat in a river
and thought all day long about you.