Spring

I awoke this morning to that wonderous thrill

of a robin singing there upon my windowsill

Out on the lawn in the grasses dewy green

the Gackles were strutting their shimmering sheen

The Jays sharply scolding, for no apparent reason

other than joy for the changing of season

A cardinal sat preening his feathers so red

there on the roof of my old fishing shed

The chipmunks were scampering with their tails held high

keeping close watch of the hawk in the sky

With spring now here, warmer weather will soon follow

along with Jenny Wren and the slick Barn Swallow

I guess I will mend my fishing gear

I just might be around to use it next year.

The Old Fisherman

The Birds

The winter has been rough

on we humans I know

But please let's not forget

the birds and this snow.

Their food has been covered

or frozen in ice

While we have ours

inside where it's nice.

The fuel that is needed

for their body heat

Comes just from everything

that they find to eat.

The scraps from your table

can mean songs in the spring

So kind people

Do the right thing!

Merry Christmas

I search through all the Christmas cards
In drug and department stores
Gazed on Santa's picture
Read verses by the scores

There were none to meet my fancy
Somehow they were incomplete
So with these yule time poets
I find I must compete

If all the million verses
Of all greeting cards were true
Had by me been written
and dedicated to you.

They would not be sufficient
My wishes to unfold
For you there is no limit
As to what my heart will hold -
Merry Christmas!

The Old Fisherman

An Ode to Autumn

I stand again
on old Linn Pier
As I have in many
a yester year

A forgotten rod
and reel in hand
Living once more
in a fairy land

My gaze across
that azure blue
To a skyline etched
in a vivid hue

The artist brush
and pallet of paint
Could only have been held
in the hands of a Saint

With these words
I somehow fumble
My thanks to God
for he makes me humble.

The Old Fisherman
(This was the first poem sent to the Lake Geneva paper in the early 1960's)

Just Out Not Fishing

Out on the flats in Old Button's Bay
early in the morn of a late spring day
Waiting for the sun, the chill to take
from off the waters of a cold,cold lake

I lay back in my scow to ponder a time
should or should not I wet a line
A northern breaks water to look around
a pretty big fellow I reckon ten pound

The boats move in, the chubs cast out
for an hour or more many a happy shout
But I stay put in that warming sun
fully content just to watch the fun

For I have landed my share and maybe more
from out of deep water and along the shore
I pull up anchor kinda hungry by now
Heck, Ma never liked northern no how.

The Old Fisherman

That there lightning bug

I walked out through the garden
on a dark and moonless night
A thousand golden candles
flickered there within my sight.

With a graceful flowing motion
they were dancing all around
Ever silently, softly, glowing
from the tree tops to the ground

Like embers from a fire
they shot into the air
No pattern to their movement
just darting here to there

As falling stars that travel
through the darkness of the night
Nothing seems to bother
the capers of their flight.

When the show was over
and the candles ceased to glow
It surely made me wonder
how it could be so.

The magnitude of energy
that each little body must hold
Is a story that's written in Heaven
and by humans cannot be told.

It is here I sit in solitude
content to gaze in space
Thankful of the privilege
for this hour of grace.

The katydids kept singing
and the crickets held their beat
As I walked from out of the garden
on slow and dragging feet.

The Old Fisherman
(My Favorite)

Think Before You Speak

A seed is planted
A vine grows there
Shall it be flowers
or ever be bare?
As a word is spoken
A thought grows there
Shall it be one of kindness
Or cause some one to despair?

Choose well your seed
When your vine grows there
It shall ever have flowers
It shall never be bare
Choose well your words
ANd as thoughts grow there
Let there always be kindness
And cause no one to despair.

The Old Fisherman

The Changing Year

With the worst winter of the century
but a thing of the past
For neither the good or the bad
for ever shall last

Now the return of all life
with a God given birth
Shall spread across the land
from a seemingly barren earth

The birds with their songs
will fill the spring air
To gladden our hearts
driving away all despair

One more cycle of life
with a year has passed by
Which may shall never change
though it is certain he will try.

The Old Fisherman

Nature

A glorious summer is passing
Fall days will soon be here
The parting song of the birds
is ever loud and clear

The majestic Monarch Butterfly
migrating to a far off place
Skips across the meadow
at a seemingly lazy pace

Long cobweb streamers
October breezes put to sail
Soft lacy and as white
as a pretty June bride's veil

Milkweed pods are bursting
cattails have all turned brown
The red haws in the pasture
are falling to the ground

Trees splashed in rainbow colors
line the lakes and river shore
For Jack Frost has done his painting
while in our beds we humans snore

Mother Nature is ever wonderful
if we will but look to see
Heralding in the seasons of change
she gives warnings all for free.

The Old Fisherman

The Skeleton of Life

We creep, we laugh and we walk
We love, we dance and we talk
We work, we play and we cry
We sing, we pray and we die

What we add to this skeleton is up to us
Goodwill, cheer and happiness to all
Our lives are just what we make them
Nothing more or nothing less


The Old Fisherman

The Birds

The winter has been rough
on we humans I know
But please let's not forget
the birds and this snow.

Their food has been covered
or frozen in ice
While we have ours
inside where it's nice.

The fuel that is needed
for their body to heat
Comes just from everything
that they find to eat.

The scraps from your table
can mean songs in the spring
So kind people
do the right thing!


The Old Fisherman

Coffee Time

Never was there an alarm
In our time or in the past

That aroused you more gently
From a long night of fast

That old coffee grinder
Singing it's first tune of the day

Roll out - roll out
Let us be up and away

The aroma of coffee
Boiling in the pot

Flap-jacks and sausage
All piping hot

All this like sweet music
Runs through my head

It's time to get up
But I'd rather stay in bed

The Old Fisherman

A Man's Best Friend

The dogs I have owned
down through the years
At the passing of each
I have shed tears

A man's best friend
someone has told
Never fully appreciated
until they have grown old

Ever running at one's side
or curled at one's feet
Just to be near you
to them seems a treat

A bark in the night
or a growl in the day
Just to warn you
there is something a stray

The dogs I have now
shall surely be my last
They are equal to all
I have owned in the past

The handwriting's on the wall
I so plainly can see
The tears that are shed next
They shall be shed for me


The Old Fisherman

One More Good Bye

With winter knocking at the door

Old Linn Pier is piled high on the shore

While in the hearth the embers glow

Deep blue skies warns of snow

The easy chair and a book or two

for my Outdoor Life will have to do

Oh! now and then I'll take a walk

If only to hear the Mrs. Squawk

These old bones can no more take

The winter sports of ski and skate

Those glorious days forever could not last

But the contentment shall - In the days of the past.

The Old Fisherman