The sweat rolled
down each chubby cheek,,
Bright red from
his exertion...
A cane pole was
his tool of trade,
With worms for
hook's insertion.
His steps were
hurried, no time to waste,
He felt the fish
were biting...
Across the field
and through the woods,
Quick gasp
at creeks first sighting.
His faithful
dog, who tagged along,
Mouth open in
wet drool...
Part of a team
that walked the bank,
And searched for
likely pool.
Beneath a tree
they picked their spot,
Sank down on
dark green grass...
With patience
and a baited hook,
Lay back to let
time pass.
A boy, his dog,
and fishing pole,
Big part
of peaceful scene...
For it is then
that thoughts roam free,
And mind
gives birth to dream.
© 03/24/09 Loree (Mason)
O'Neil
Midi playing is: Peaceful Easy
Feeling
