Dad tried to teach brother and I to fish
by mountain lakes where rainbow trout fins swish.
We’d load the car with lunch, our gear, and bait;
sweet summer’s day together filled our wish.
We learned sharp hooks make earthworms twist about!
Dad warned us to “Be quiet” till he’d shout —
our lines were tangled up, both bobbers lost.
We tried his patience more than any trout.
Sometimes we fished for hours on shore of lake,
yet no fish worthwhile eating would we take.
We cast our lines along with hopes and dreams;
fond mem’ries we hold close of summer break.
Dad, thanks for all the things you taught us right
It’s true in life that fish don’t always bite!
___________
(a sonnet of 14 lines: 3 quatrains in iambic pentameter
with AABA rhyme, plus final couplet)
a poem in my pocket 