Do Not Tap on the Glass

I am startled to discover a fish tank in a corner of the University
Student Union. The tank is built into the wall. A plaque tells the story:
In October 1966, On this spot a couple met and later married. 
In 2018, in celebration of their 50th wedding anniversary, the couple
gifted the aquarium to the Student Union. In perpetuity.

The tank measures five feet by three and a dozen plants wave at me,
moved by an aerator. There are Angel fish and Harlequins, Tetras
and Clown fish. A black fish has two white dots, high on its back. 
Another fish is yellow with wide black stripes. Several small neon
blue fish with gold tails flash past. It is hypnotic and I watch
for a long time. Then, on the bottom, a small snake? An eel? 

It swims close to the stones, angles around plant bases, slips back
behind foliage then comes forward and spits out a mouthful of stones.
Again and again, creating a hill in front of the roots. A Loach, I learn,
probably a Weather Loach. Scavenging for food that clings to the stones. 

Students, cell phones in hand, rush past, unaware of the aquatic wonder nearby.
The fish, equally oblivious, are well-tended, doted on, even, not by
the donating couple, but by a Union employee. Someone who, I imagine,
breathes slower watching her little charges, weeps when one of them passes.

 

Mary C. Rowin’s poetry, essays and reviews have appeared in a variety of publications such as Hummingbird, Panopoly, Solitary Plover, Stoneboat and Oakwood Literary Magazine. Nominated for a Pushcart, her awards include prizes from The Nebraska Writers Guild and Journal from the Heartland. Mary lives in Middleton, Wisconsin.