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| Watercolor by Pat Morgan |
The
first time my Dad took me fishing
We
brought a bag of worms.
He
selected a big, fat one for his hook,
A
small one for mine. I didn’t mind.
He
saw I was reluctant to pierce
My
worm with the hook. Without a word
He
took them from me. I didn’t mind.
I
was anxious and pulled the line before he was done.
The
hook caught his finger,
Blood
beaded up. He didn’t yell at me.
After
an hour he suggested we leave. I didn’t
mind.
He
hadn’t caught any fish.
I
only caught his finger.
He
didn’t mind.
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