ONE DAY ON TINMOUTH POND

I took myself in the old row boat
along the edge of Tinmouth Pond;
brought a sandwich, chips and a cold drink
planning that I would be gone
for most the day and thought that I
might do a little fishing,
cast a line with hook and worm
while I did some dreaming and drifting,
reading and enjoying the scenery
out on the water relaxing, having fun,
enjoying the mountain breeze
and soaking up a bit of sun.

I’d been out there quite awhile
rowing and then drifting
when dark clouds began to gather
and I noticed the wind was shifting
I thought, girl you better head for shore
and I hadn’t caught much fish from fishing,
three fair size yellow perch I kept
and a half dozen pumpkinseeds,
small ones that I just threw back;
they are boney fish to eat.
And something with a bit of spunk
that broke free among the reeds
but it had given me a tussle
and a bit of fun to say the least.
It was probably a pickerel
though it might have been a bass.
Whatever it was it didn’t stick around
long enough for me to ask.

The sky kept getting darker
and the wind began to blow.
Thunder rumbled in the distance
and I began to row
and rowed as hard and fast as I could
with maybe a half mile to go
as lightning danced on the water
and a fear tingled and flowed
giving me a surge of power
and I rowed and rowed and rowed…
And the rain started falling
and I thoroughly got soaked,
soaked through and through right to the bone,
every inch from head to toe.

Finally I docked my craft
and made a wild dash for the camp,
me, my book, my lunch, three fish
more than a little damp…
But oh, it had been a splendid day
out there on Tinmouth Pond
and I’d be back, out in that boat
another day by early dawn.

Annette Bromley