Fishing
I
If I had to choose one memory to keep alive
Throughout my life, I would choose the day
I fished with my dad. He woke me up
Beneath the dying whim of night,
Allowing me to say
‘Hullo!’ to the morning sun as
The north-westerly clouds billowed
‘Good-morning.’
A pale-blue sky forced itself into the background,
Humming its sweet, autumnal tune; trees miles around
Swayed with the rhythm,
Shaking their weakest leaves from old branches.
Lurching into the shower, all I listened to was the
Evermore lifelessness of the radio’s battery
Churning out noise after scratch,
Emaciating my ears and hiding my scars within.
II
I dressed and washed and got into the car.
It thundered into action, my sister
Seated in the back, ever-present on my dad’s
Adventures. We pounded along the streets,
Flashes of sunlight guiding us towards the
River of Forgotten Red. My dad, being
A clever and wise man, had already packed
All necessary items: the rods
– plus their extensions –
Bait, and lines. He parked the car safely, covered
(for the moment)
By an evergreen’s shadow, heading towards its longest
(‘cause it was nearing midday)
But, more importantly, heading towards its
Decline from peak to trough.
The sun began to shine where it
Normally does not, screaming,
‘Wow!’ and
‘What a sight!’ into the stratosphere;
The river ran on, stripping the grass off the banks in
Preparation for our descent on to its produce.
III
We adorned hats and whistled our tune.
My sister answered with her accustomed
Dismissive head turn and her closed eyes.
My dad demonstrated the assembly and
Stripping of my own fishing rod, and
How to pack it all away into its case.
I learnt it all so quickly and naturally
– he said that I did it perfectly.
I threw my line, disturbing the surface water,
Attracting my fish to the surface;
The smell was overwhelming and hypnotic.
My sister continued to smile graciously.
IV
I cleaned myself up from all the slime
Covering my paws, followed my father’s
Instructions and put my fishing rod away.
He did the same soon after,
Keen to get out of the torrential rain which
Lined the car’s windscreen like tears down a weathered face.
Now the clouds loomed overhead like
Bubbles on a bath: concealing the hidden beauties beneath.
We drove away from Red River Creek,
Fish stored safely,
And I turned back to my sister who smiled incoherently:
She was so happy;
My dad wore the same grin.
V
As we got back home, the sun was saying
‘Good-bye’ and its clouds blushing with sadness;
The moon mirrored in the distance,
Shying away from conversation with the stars and
Allowing them glow their own in the distance.
I went to bed happy,
Wishing a
‘Good-night’
To the tree-tops who
Knew everything.
© Joseph Tradescent
Poems
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