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Scraps and scribbles from 1960 - 2015 |
| Dangling the rod, fingers play its line against the wind, Hoping for a bite, casting in choppy waters once again. Boat trolling along, engine humming its doleful sound; Wind suddenly gusts about – heavy clouds are billowing in. Stormy days and fishing ways are a perfect time For thinking and unraveling life’s peculiar rhymes. Softly, snow begins to fall, coldness creeps ‘cross the moor, Tho’ nestled in my humming boat, it’s time to go ashore. Watching flakes fall quietly down and cover o’er my world, A fire dances against the damp with blankets all unfurled. You grab the wine, I find glasses and we both settle in To a comfort we always had; fate found us once again. A crackling fire, a special friend, wine and softly falling snow; Dogs at our feet, music plays, enticing is the glow Of embers and of forgotten flame – it begs reflection, friend, With baited line, wonder why you got away back then. Fishing all but forgotten, at least for now with you Turning my thoughts toward passion's rendezvous. Holding me so tenderly, you tease me with a kiss; Softly snow flutters down a curtain call o’er this! tuc 12/31/2010 |
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