Boys Who Fish

then 3, 4 and 5
screeching in on bikes
that are crash-landing parked
on the morning
of a hurry-before-we-miss-the-fish day.

A minivan appears,
offloading gear
at the top of the steps.
A mother calls out
for them to come and fetch

and boys
whose only speed is full-out running
take the steps two-at-a-time,
both going up and coming down,
rushing to join
the two who got a head start
by arriving first

(only 60 seconds earlier, by my estimation).

* * *

a regular,
his running days far behind him
hands his pole to a friend,
takes 3 slow steps,
throws netting over the lock wall
and brings up some bait.

He offers it to the boys,
all scrambling and talking at once, elbowing in.

There is jockeying for position, plenty.

Seeing each at last settled
at a place along the wall,
line in water,
the old man steps back,
reclaims his pole,
and looks at his friend.

Both smile broadly,
though no words pass between them
this day where the quiet
of sun-on-water
has been broken
by the sound of
boys racing to catch up with fish
and each other,
the sound of their own childhoods.

* * *

You might also enjoy “Did Pig-tailed Girls Run Here?

About Marilyn

Reading, thinking and talking about leadership, writing, ESL for refugees, faith, grief and finding the story in a story. Student of Spanish. Foe of procrastination. People person with hermit tendencies or vice-versa. My work has appeared in Moody Magazine, Leadership Journal, Guideposts, Upper Room and many other publications. I lead workshops in personal experience writing and accept speaking engagements as schedule permits. I also listen.
This entry was posted in character studies, friendship, relationship. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Boys Who Fish

  1. Susan says:

    And you’ve helped me catch up with mine.

    Delightful. Thank you.


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