fresh fish

I bought fish today.
Fresh fish.
At least, I think it's safe to say that they're fresh.
They are alive and that is about as fresh as fish come.
They were one of those impulse purchases you hear about.
I saw them.
I had an impulse to buy them.
I plonked down the cash.

I had been shopping at Devon Greenhouses.
They have a pond smack dab in the center of things. Water plants flourish there; inspiration for the pond owning gardener. This year, they have added goldfish to their list of temptations. Those fish were like little orange commas darting thither and yon, as frisky as Nemo. I even got to catch them myself; two orange and one black.
Into a plastic bag they went and I hastened homeward.
They were soon exploring the wild deep of my rain barrel.
A rain barrel is a poor man's pond.
It might not be big enough for waterlily's and frogs but it's big enough for gold fish.
Gold fish are humble fish. They don't insist on a certain square footage or view.
The rain barrel by my entry is the home of three magnificently large gold fish. They have grown and flourished.
They now have neighbors in the barrel at the corner of the house. They're tiny relatives now, but time may change that.
'One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.'