Hitting the Limit

So I spent a few days earlier this week surviving the latest bug going around. Good times---NOT! Have you ever noticed that when this type of thing happens, life tends to hit one below the belt several times in a row. One thing after another until I did indeed feel as though I had hit my limit, literally. But today, the sun is shining, I'm moving on, and I'm actually upright and not swaying. This is good. To celebrate, I'll share a poem on the lighter side entitled, "Hitting the Limit." I wrote it recently in honor of a successful fishing adventure, as the picture posted with it will attest. Posing in said picture would be two of my sons, and my husband. For all of you fisherpersons out there, this is proof there is hope when the day's "catch" seems less than desired.

Hitting the Limit

Mostly when we go fishing
We find that we are wishing
For the days of yore when fish were actually caught
These days it is a rare thing
To come home with a full string
The fish we eat are mostly what we bought.

We drown worms feeling sorry
That their lives were meant for quarry
I apologize to each one that I skewer
Power bait is added next
Deciding which color\smell is best
It would be easier if the choices were much fewer.

Casting in the right spot
Line tangling in a tight knot
Moss is not our friend when hooks are dangling
Much time is spent in fixing
Lines forever mixing
Cross-overs happen when the wind contributes angling.

One day fate did smile
For just a little while
The reservoir was lowered by the drought
One could now catch fishes
For numerous gourmet dishes
A blessing from a trial had come about.

Our limit we did catch
A fish trip without match
We’d barely cast before reeling in a fish
Worms died a noble death
Fish were caught on their last breath
Truly a fisherman’s paradisal wish.

Pictures prove the story
Of our fishing glory
The menfolk smiled brightly and were preening
There was a bit of pride
And only one downside
Who would be stuck with all the cleaning?

Cheri J. Crane
September 2007