Dry Run Creek

[Poppy]

Dry Run Creek

He’s just nearly eight, and his waders
barely fit, but under canopies of green
with bluebird skies barely visible, his
eyes are wide, gazing intently looking
for just the sign.

Now boy, lift the rod now. Ah, that’s
ok there will be another time.
Try it again, you can do it.
Put it upstream a bit.
Keep your eye on the end of the line
if it moves you know what to do.
Look, your line, lift, yes, its there.
Bring it in, reel, pull the line…
Let him run, reel some more.
Here, let me help.

Your first, it’s a beauty.
Can I keep him? No, we have to let him go.
Why?
So another boy can have a chance.
Thanks Pop.
No thank you.

[motherhubbard]

Dry Run Creek
Can I keep him? No, we have to let him go.
Why?
So another boy can have a chance.
Thanks Pop.
No thank you.

this makes me get a little teary. I can be such a cry baby. I love your poem.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Dry Run Creek

He’s just nearly eight, and his waders
barely fit, but under canopies of green
with bluebird skies barely visible, his
eyes are wide, gazing intently looking
for just the sign.

Now boy, lift the rod now. Ah, that’s
ok there will be another time.
Try it again, you can do it.
Put it upstream a bit.
Keep your eye on the end of the line
if it moves you know what to do.
Look, your line, lift, yes, its there.
Bring it in, reel, pull the line…
Let him run, reel some more.
Here, let me help.

Your first, it’s a beauty.
Can I keep him? No, we have to let him go.
Why?
So another boy can have a chance.
Thanks Pop.
No thank you.

God! The love that one can feel for one's blessed little ones! The joy of watching their joy and pride in their accomplishments.

Thanks for this.

[ampoule]

How quickly these poems slip away. I found this on page 2!! And it was only written yesterday. It is so sweet, the picture of father and son standing in a river. Of course, I have images of A River Runs Through It which I hope you don't mind my mentioning.
I once heard a man 'teaching' his son to work on a car and it was horrible. He yelled terrible things at the boy for not knowing a particular tool that he was asking for. So your poem is even more beautiful for the quiet way you taught your son about the thing you love.

[nwtasane]

Killing. No death no poetry.

[Pendragon]

Memories can be captured in things besides pictures as Poppy has shown...



Pen

[Granny5]

It's a beautiful poem, Poppy. Makes me remember my Papa and fishing with him. Thanks for sharing.

[Poppy]

Thanks everyone for your nice comments. Its encouraging for this novice.

[motherhubbard]

I love this poem the best, Pop. I think it shows how gentle and patient you are, and you really are. When I called my sister and read it to her I had to stop because I was crying so hard. I think the imagery and the look shared between the two of you at the end are just beautiful.

[Poppy]

I love this poem the best, Pop. I think it shows how gentle and patient you are, and you really are. When I called my sister and read it to her I had to stop because I was crying so hard. I think the imagery and the look shared between the two of you at the end are just beautiful.

And at the same time MH, I hope it speaks for all kids...(not just the 5), that this big old planet has alot more to offer, actually much more. than what technology provides today. How simple it would be without the distractions of everyday convenience; tv, cell phones, I-pods and even fast cars and the internet, and children instead enjoyed a big dirt pile playing cowboys and indians.

[firefangled]

And at the same time MH, I hope it speaks for all kids...(not just the 5), that this big old planet has alot more to offer, actually much more. than what technology provides today. How simple it would be without the distractions of everyday convenience; tv, cell phones, I-pods and even fast cars and the internet, and children instead enjoyed a big dirt pile playing cowboys and indians.

My Uncle Jack used to take me to the Scioto River to catch catfish and crappie. He was just this patient with me and I know I drove him crazy with my lack of it then. Now, hardly a month goes by (and it has been over 50 years) that something doesn't make me thank him for teaching me to wait before I act. Wonderful poem, Poppy.