My brothers spent their summers fishin’
And always wanted me to go.
I would’ve fished with them all summer
If I didn’t hate worms so.
But their pleading finally swayed me,
So we drove to their favorite spot,
Slid down the bank and climbed over rocks
To the shade, where it wasn’t so hot.
I shuddered at the squirming worms;
“You could use corn,” my brother said.
I told them I didn’t want any bait;
“TIl just hold the pole instead.”
“I might catch a fish and it would die,”
I explained to my two brothers.
As I tossed my bait hook out,
“That’s the point,” I heard them mutter.
They stood a few feet away from me
As I sat there, holding my pole.
They said, “sis, a fish just might
Bite an unbaited hook, you know.”
I never even glanced their way
As we lazed under the clear blue sky.
“Well,” I told them, “a fish that stupid
Just plain deserves to die!”
Copyright © 2006 by moleta ruth mccarter. All rights reserved.
