The Catch
I used to take a short cane pole
and head out for the creek
where tannin colored water ran
like iced tea over white soft sand.
It pooled in bends or near felled
trees in deep black holes where
fishes hid.
With weight and hook
and wiggling worm
I’d drop my line and watch the
bobbing bobber disappear
when fish would bite
and take their flight to
wrap my line around some
hidden snag.
I used to take a short cane pole
and head out for the creek
where tannin colored water ran
like iced tea over white soft sand.
It pooled in bends or near felled
trees in deep black holes where
fishes hid.
With weight and hook
and wiggling worm
I’d drop my line and watch the
bobbing bobber disappear
when fish would bite
and take their flight to
wrap my line around some
hidden snag.
Dennis Price
