Somewhere In The Grains Of Long Dead Trees.
Somewhere in the
grains of long dead trees.
© -MFB III
Somewhere in grains of yesterday's cut trees
on a weather beaten fishing pier's old bench,
stuck like many sparkling bits of a shaved pearl
stand scales of a huge trout that I can't tout,
because I never got it on a scale
but it left scales for me when it got off
my hook as I was reeling from the shock,
of watching this humongous catch escape.
It banged the bench as it slipped free, but then
I swear it grinned at me and flipped me off,
with two swats of it's tail fins and a splash
that soaked my clothing tsunami style,
while dreaming of pan frying its fresh bulk
and how it would taste crisp in buttered bliss.
It jerked way too hard as I pulled out the hook
and with a joyous plunge it swam away,
then circled round the dock in victory laps
and warned the other fish away,
while I sat catching nothing else that day.
So I shot a picture of just one scale
so someone would believe my fishing tale,
but it chose to splash some water on my lens
the instant that I pressed the shutter down,
all Ii took home was a picture that was blurred
and laughter when I showed them back in town,
where lousy fast food was my lunch that day
because my gourmet feast had got away.
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