Memories With My Punt

tarn featured delicate swan so exquisite and rare, I stood in silt and gave a soul-seeker-stare. smack of cold lake water lapped past my socked toes grit of teeth helped me glide punt with gentle smooth flows taste of salted pate still lingered from quickly eaten lunch shorn from mouth with tongue, without a conscious hunch. I bade my strength to clasp the wet, slippery, elusive rope, Dealing with warts and all, but lots of heartfelt hope. Seductively sassy swan dipped her feathered wing into the lake. I gave her a smile, for communication with nature and gentle beast’s sake. This memory from many years ago, is today much more than a bunt, One of many wonderful bits of nostalgia I created with my sweet punt.