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Countdown: A Ritual
[April 13, 2009]

My same again yearly waiting game
Time afoot, the annual contest
Of grating patience up against
The yearning of anticipation.
I can smell trout in the dirt beside
The river (or earthworm shit stirred
Not shaken, aromatic decay
Perhaps explaining why garden
Hackles tempt fish in lightless depths).
We seek fish ceremoniously
With religious yearly fervor
Glorious last Friday each April
Eleven days hence & meanwhile
Big Bang Theory distracting me
Until the day comes to sally forth.
I wonder if the trout are nervous too,
These same thoughts bugging me every year
As I count down the days remaining,
Wonder how many more openers
Left in this life I call my own, which
Clearly is in control of someone
Clever enough to invent genes and fate.



 
 
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