Poet's
Corner
By Ronald Crowe
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FISHING

(St. John's County, FL)
Exploring that stream's meanderings,
I would follow its musical wanderings,
stopping at occasional holes where,
as if reconsidering its direction,
the creek had turned briefly back, leaving
the water black with depth and mystery.

Sacrificing a worm I'd watch
with baited breath for bobbing cork--
jerk, and pull struggling life
into alien air--a gasping bream or
warmouth bass; secured the prize,
fished on until nothing more, moved
down to the next deep hole.

A full string brought praise from
mom or dad, yet something more compelled:
although boyhood is ancient history, I'm still
that lad, following some rambling stream, searching
for a fishing hole, dark with depth and mystery.