It seemed to happen in a flash.
Our movements were rash.
Behind the breakfast bar
With scraps of potato hash.
Our webbed little feet
Stuck in a muddy mash.
Scores of us slip-slapping up the alley
Unabashed, with feathers
Mucked and thrashed
Finally on the road and--boom! Crash!
Linda was blindsided,
Some trucker with a stash.
There were eight of us now
Headed for a small pond in Wabash.
Just 200 waddles in the razor tall leaves
That thrash and slash.
Finally the four of us left see
Beyond the man-sized vines
The immaculate vision of the chicken party.
The most bodacious aquatic bash:
The one they call "The Chicken Splash."
Categories:
wabash, animal,
Form: Rhyme
Being met by a river like in some boyhood dream,
I retain a memory of the Wabash with affection.
Its vista added an attraction to the landscape,
Aided from above by a blue expanse of reflection.
This was a view that entertained me weekly,
Since I crossed it to reach the shops downtown.
There was a spot on the bridge to spend a time,
Being soothed by the waterflow’s pristine sound.
Categories:
wabash, nostalgia, places, river, water,
Form: Verse
Oft' my thoughts drift back through the mists of time,
To my childhood and my humble Indiana home,
Those blissful days of youth so carefree and sublime!
My memories of those blithesome days would fill a tome!
When I hear, "On the Banks of the Wabash, Far away",
Along its slopin' banks I can see the towerin' sycamores,
Dancin' in the breeze on a languid Hoosier summer's day,
And I see a boy with willow pole catchin' catfish by the scores!
The Wabash flows silently through the verdant Indiana plain,
Meanderin' through forests and many a sleepy Hoosier town.
How I pine to return to the soil of my birth once again,
To be that barefoot boy amblin' to the Wabash a-fishin' boun'!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. l in Barbara Gorelick's "A River Runs Through It" Contest - Jul 2011
Categories:
wabash, childhood, places
Form: Quatrain