Brisk

It's another Sunday morning Almost Thanksgiving and brisk Dontcha just love optimists Brisk The sun is shining The rhody's leaves are wide open Clouds are everywhere Trying their damndest to thwart the sun The blue patches are spreading rapidly Puddles from last nights storm Reflect the coming brightness A few still clinging maple leaves Shiver in hesitant nudges of breeze While I prepare for a mind trip And a second coffee Aaahh that tastes sooo goood Fishing? fresh or saltwater? Checking the gear as I flow with traffic Driving the old International 3/4 ton pick up With the pot warp monkey's fist Hanging from the mirror I tied eight of them for Coke To give to friends for Christmas He gave me the rattiest one The truck's in Maine now Gathering rust and dust in my daughter's yard I'll stop to fill the thermos And maybe grab a couple of subs It's on the way to the bait shop Let's hope they still carry striper swipers I really need a red one Schoolies'll ride the incoming around that spit on the back river Right were we nailed them last year Man did they ever taste good Later on they'll reek of oil from the harbor Still fun to catch but not worth keeping One of these days I'm gonna brand them To see if I get one next year Coffee's getting cold Guess I'll start cooking breakfast