Morning At The Pond

The morning sun filtered through the branches of trees like fine lace,

while I walked the trail, enjoying the park’s solitude,

and listening to nature’s tunes.

A butterfly, in her stained-glass dress, fluttered by,

followed by a pair of blue and green dragonflies,

and a gaggle of geese overhead.

At the end of the trail, I came upon a murky pond below

a grassy hill and watched a school of minnows

swim about in chaos fashion.

I cast my line with exaggerated grace,

anticipating a great find,

but it would be too kind to say I tried.

I reeled in my line with such passion,

but instead of a squiggly fish,

my hook snagged a dirty dish

of a smelly, worn-out leather boot.

My face turned a bright red

and I wanted to hide my head,

But instead, I poured water from that boot onto the grass,

And to my surprise, there was a nice-sized bass.




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