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A Fishy Tale

A Fishy Tale

The wind, a gentle summer breeze
The water, just a ripple
The sun at last is breaking through
The fog is slowly lifting
The wild goose calling to his mate
Our boat is barely drifting.
A perfect morning on the lake!

Eyes fixed upon the things we love
Hands holding on so tight
We wait in breathless silence
With just one goal in sight
The little words we want to hear
Then one of us at last declares
“Hey! Guys, I got a bite!”

Evelyn Quade
September 5,1999

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