Grandpa

He taught me how to catch a trout, To take it home and clean it out. Fillet the bone from head to tail, With nothing, but knife and pail. He taught me how to bivouac, To stake a tent and find a track. Pursue it slow, with not a sound, As if, our prey could hear the ground. He taught me how to chop a tree To smaller pieces, mostly three. We burned it in the fireplace, I miss that heat upon my face. He taught me how to shovel snow And fish the ice at two below. With frozen face and icy ear, Aside the hush, I still could hear.