It’s turning yellow and a little cloudy
In my fish bowl.
Every few minutes a swim to the floor
Sends up swirls of stuff –
Some old, some new,
but none of it is beneficial at this point.

Only a day ago this was clear.
Days of clarity before.
The accumulation grows in silence
Barely noticeable  
And takes over in an instant.

At least that is how it works in my fish bowl
Between cleanings.
I fight the instinct to throw it all out –
Start over
Again –
Newer fish, cleaner rocks, greener plants.
This time I choose diligence
In the quest of finding perfect balance.