Today we’re working on CONNECT.
The New York Times Wellness Challenge asked us to read out loud to someone. Luckily, today was my poetry writing class, and we each had the opportunity to read the poem we had written out loud to the rest of the class. This is mine.
By Abbie Watters
The menu said “Pan-fried Trout”
And my heart rejoiced.
I love eating fresh-water fish.
Papa was an avid fisherman,
Mama liked to fish because
He liked to have her with him.
One sister and my brother both
Loved to fish, one of my sons loved it.
One of my foreign-exchange boys went fishing with Papa.
My brother-in-law died in a boat
After a long morning of fishing.
We knew how happy he must have been to die that way.
Quiet moments standing on the bank
Flinging my bobber, sinker and hook
Into the middle of the current.
Or sitting in a gently rocking boat with Papa
Casting my lure into the lily pads,
Watching the bass rise from the depths
With a great WHOMP!
That will get your blood pressure up.
Floating in a canoe or row boat,
River, lake or ocean
Motorboat, either outboard or inboard,
Or cabin cruiser. It mattered not.
Worms, minnows, or flies for bait.
Drifting with the current, paddling from staub to staub,
Trolling slowly with the trolling motor,
Sunnys, perch, crappie, big-mouth bass,
Black bass, sand bass, catfish,
Trout, or wall-eyes. Fluke, flounder,
And blowfish who puff up
And will bounce like a ball
When you catch them.
Pike, pickerel, or even gar.
Needle-nosed, bony, and viscious
With prehistoric teeth in long jaws.
The waitress returns to the table
“I’ll have the trout” I say,
And return to my reverie of warm summer days on the water.