...to a still upset and disturbed creek
Water, confused dirty water, much less
than pristine
The dome overhead dark, not inviting,
not a fresco chapel Sistine
Nary a carp to be seen,
but the occasional jester
Tempting the angler, salting wounds,
left to only fester
Something taking place in nature
this dark day
Weather speaking it's mind
nature having her say
The sky eerie at times
tree limbs making rhymes
Winds that make the hard gust
then stop
Rain that would begin to pour
then stop
Sunlight that would break through
then stop
Birds singing in chorus
then stop
Like God had a finger,
on the divine switch
Squirrel scampering to the tree
hiding in the burrow
Carp hunkered down low
hiding in a watered furrow
How can creatures tell
when us land-dwellers can't
Of ill and mean weather coming
weather not of faint
The angler that come today,
for some kind of crown
Leaves the upset water behind
owning just a frown
SUNDAY
Storms rolled through at four this morning. Loud and blistering storms that added only more misery to a struggling creek.
No chance of sight fishing carp today. Blind fishing though is always a possibility.
Today, however, another species would interject and disrupt the attempt at more conversations with carp.
The Carpolo Charlie carp fly seemed to be quite favorable to this fish that seemed to own a heightened sense of possible food.
3 comments:
Nice Barry,
I thought your poem well done indeed. And a catfish despite it all. Very deseved.
Gregg
Nice words Barry.
Jason Williams
Jason, good to hear from you. Hope you've been fishing as much as you can.
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