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Fishing Hole

By Brandon Glen Pfeiffer

 

Load up all my gear

roll the windows down

take off on the gravel road,

swing the back end out

heading to the fishing hole

where the big fish wait

dirt flying behind me

dust in my eyes

it’s a short drive

to see the shimmering waves

cast out in the water

and hope the fish are brave

if I look close

I can see the fish

Lots of largemouth

Nestled in the weeds

Beautiful and bright

they still don’t want to bite

maybe it’s too early

maybe it’s too warm

either way I don’t care,

it’s good to just be out.

When the fish don’t bite

And I’m scorching in the sun

I hold my breath,

Jump in,

The dust dissolves

From my sweaty, salty skin.