[photo by author]

One hazy sunlit summer day
A father and son strung fishing lines
and went to the river for a lazy day
Of fishing and talking and spending time.

.

Grampa went too, and told the young boy
Of long summer days in years gone by
When he and his daddy walked similar trails
With rods and buckets and heads held high.

.

The three talked of fishing, and their favorite lures
And how to tell where the best spots were
Of nature’s beauty, and the river’s wild grace
And life’s little lessons – some hard, to be sure.

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Years passed by with their trials and cares
The young son learned as he aged and grew
And he realized, once on a fishing trip
That Grampa and Dad were getting older, too.

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When life got hectic and tempers got stretched
They would struggle sometimes to find their way
But rifts were mended when they grabbed their rods
And went back to the river for a lazy day.

.

They would talk about fishing, and the best fishing holes
Their newfangled reels and their favorite lures
They talked through the problems and what they each saw
And came home with dinner, and some possible cures.

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The years marched on, and Grampa stayed home
And the boy was busy with his grown-up life
But Dad was still there for the best times and worst
And loved his fine son and his brand new wife.

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One day he planned on a fishing trip
And picked up his boy as he’d always done
They walked by the river and talked about life
With his home and his job and his brand new son.

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And they talked about fishing, and the river so wild
The footprints they saw and the temperate clime
And the son who would learn as his daddy did
By fishing and talking and spending time.