A Fishy Tale
How could the weather forecast not tantalize me
To play truant on the eve of Miss Gaybird’s test?
The river would be an invitation the next day
To go and try my luck at catching a tasty trout.
So early next morning I left my mother curious
Wondering where I was heading to, as I carried
My tackle and my fishing rod and prayed for weather fair.
There the river ran its surface shining and calm.
All day I fished, throwing line, reeling in and slacking out.
Alas it seemed too calm for my eventual luck.
Then a light breeze ruffled the surface and I hoped.
After a while the rod bent, I had managed a catch.
I used all my experience while controlling the vortex
Of elation at what I was sure was a big trout,
I had to tread carefully lest it got away and so
I had to plunge into the water, net in hand to land the fish.
In the kitchen, all alone I knew how to eviscerate the trout,
Clean it under running water and put it in the fridge.
My mother would be pleased, I thought. I would bewilder her
With a great barbeque pleasing dinner when dad came home.
Surprise of surprises Miss Gaybird was there, face scarlet
Asking: “What fallacious excuse am I to hear from you?”
There was not much to say except invite her to eat with us.
Which she did and enjoyed it to the full too.
But I got no sympathy from her. I still failed the test.
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