Pin Fishing

I remember fondly the summer when I was nine Catching minnows in the creek was my favorite pastime Except I called then pin fish, I had quirky names for things As well as bizarre behaviour, year before, obsessed with swings Decked out in my rubber boots with a bucket in each hand My desire to capture them day after day, I did not understand For hours upon hours I catch as many I could, then set them free To the top of the hill I trudge to a natural spring nestled under a tree After taking a drink from the purest water I ever sprung from this earth I overturn the bucket, maybe in my young mind, I was giving them rebirth For these little minnows, it must have been a harrowing event Or an adventure of a lifetime, for to harm was never my intent Then off to home I go to have a bowl of long strokes aka chicken noodle soup Giving my pin fish time to travel down hill and once again regroup The next day I would wake up eager and a pin fishing I would go I bet those minnows were happy when them I finally did outgrow