Beside a trickling stream, I walked and wondered,
wandering off, my course with rocks asunder
the rolling rumble of distant thunder,
I twist and stumble as I stop encumbered
a pack on my back carrying food and supplies,
fruits into slices and a sandwich for lunch
each footfall with fervor, each lands with a crunch
a hike through the mountains, such a beautiful sight
the night is surrounding, must make use of the light
my boots are in flight as I leap atop rocks
down to the lakeside, and my seat on the docks...
The sunset brilliant blood orange o'er distant hills
pop the top of my bottle, tipped to the glass until my pilsner spills
froth pouring out, a beer to relax
my pole in the water, filled with cheer as I bask
a clear night, not a cloud around
crickets chirping soft, surrounded with sound
I tilt the rod, lowered down to the ground
and brace for the tug, a fish is bound to come out...
Eyes heavy, my time to relax
Surprised with a bite, barely in time to react
the line almost snaps, but stays steady
slowly pulling the reel, already tasting the breading
imagining the grill, and the gravy I'll be spreading...
A hard whip, this sucker's tough!
clutching sharp with my grip, my thumb spinning up
finally approaching, incoming my triumph,
I can feel the fish closing, stomach rumbling with violence
with a splash, the fish breaches the surface
and lands at my feet, I see what I'd emerged with...
A boot.
God damnit.
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