The second day of my brook based bumblings gave itself a more suppressed image in my mind. My focus was on the minute, and as such the day collapsed in on the few icons of significance I could find in my grasp after having seined segments of stream. The effect of these events in retrospect is almost humorous. I find in my mind a clear picture of my bent figure examining the drowned leaves, pebbles, and twigs for movement indicative of life. I see the transparent wigglers shimmying in water columns all their own, and the vision I tested against their microscopic capabilities. It was a good day, but I feel it was rushed. The endlessness of insects is difficult to contend against the perfection seeking drawl of an internal monologue. So, I wrapped up sooner than I should’ve, and was left with a fine sample but an unkind mind that denied my efforts. Ultimately, I feel the insects shall outlive them both.