Summer Memories

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