Goin’ Fishin’

This stained glass fishing boy, created by a very dear artist friend of mine, has inspired more than one poem for me. But this one is my favorite.  Hope you enjoy it.

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GOIN’ FISHIN’

Barefoot boy goin’ down the road
On his way to the fishin’ hole.
Faded overalls and an old straw hat,
‘Cross his shoulder a wooden pole.

Beat-up tin can filled with worms
Dug from the sun-warmed earth.
Bulge in his pocket says cookies for lunch.
A water canteen on his arm.

New beagle pup pads alongside,
Turnin’ off to sniff now and then;
An off-key tune whistled soft and low
Drifts away as the boy rounds the bend.

I can see again how it was with me,
When I didn’t have cares by the load,
When I was a barefoot farmer’s son,
Walkin’ down that fishin’ hole road.

Dagnabbit! I think I’ll grab my hat,
And hunt up my old cane pole.
I just might help him whistle that tune
When I meet him at the fishin’ hole.




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