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The Jumping Crawdad
January 12, 2015
Down the path, and behind the trees,
is the fishing hole I'd like to sieze.
Not to watch the birds and bees,
a fisherman is what I want to be.
On the bank, worms as bait,
how long must I wait.
A tug t the line, is a mighty sign.
The jumping and snapping feels mighty fine.
Line at hold, seeing a small red-
crawdad opposite of what I said.
On the bank jumping,
a crab is at least something!
© Kristen K., Kinnelon, NJ
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this poem takes me back to when i was a kid me and my nephew used to always get into trouble down by the river