A summer evening spent fishing
On black waters beneath a sunset sky.
Forested hills climbed high in the west,
As dark as shadows and just as safe.
Bears and their young came to fish the creek
That runs past the woods next door.
Deer swam across the lake to eat
Grape leaves and my mother’s roses.
Sunsets seen from my father’s boat
While fishing for perch or crappie.
And morning came, bright and young,
Filled with the scents of home.
Of potatoes and onions, crisp and brown,
And fish frying for breakfast,
And cinnamon rolls just out of the oven,
And coffee perking on the stove.
Smells that signified Sunday morning.
And when the washing up was done
I took my book to the alder grove
And drowsed the day away.
Credits and Attributions
A Summer Evening Spent Fishing, by Connie J. Jasperson © 2018 All Rights Reserved
Indian Sunset: Deer by a Lake, painted by Albert Bierstadt [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons ca. 1880 – 1890