Longanimity
He took me fishing.
Meaning,
I cast and fouled
my fishing reel
in rapid succession,
forgetting to thumb break,
creating snarled messes,
rending the whole thing
unusable.
He swapped
his gear for mine,
untangled the abortion
I’d created,
handed me back
an operational rod,
just as I messed up
again.
Rinse.
Repeat.
He never once
scowled or
raised his voice.
When we got back to the house,
Granny asked how fishing went.
Paw-paw smiled,
“Wonderfully.”
----------
for the "Pick-a-Title" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Edward Ibeth
title chosen: 1. Longanimity
written on 03/14/2022
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
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