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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
Copyright ©
Donald Meikle
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