Our Grandchildren’s Catch
A fish to me is simple and free.
In a pool of crisp clean water.
Doing what a fish does far from slaughter.
He lives his whole life in this pool.
Calmly waiting for a fly or a fool.
We sneak up on the pool ever so slow.
Trying not to cast shadow to make him go.
We watch the surface for a tell tail ripple.
Trying to make the days count a triple.
Setting a fly gracefully on top.
I’m frozen in time waiting for the take with a plop.
He takes my offering with little regret.
It makes my heart pound while scrambling for the net.
He finally yealds to the fly and line.
I ease him in he’s finally mine.
I think, what a gallant fight.
To be put back in the pond you’ve earned the right.
I left the pond with a warm thought.
Tomorrow by someone else you’ll be caught.