Memories of Big Crow Lake

Poetry by - Chad Little (12 years old)


I know ..
Fishing .. waking up in the morning, walking through the morning dew ..
Untying your canoe and pushing it out into the lake shrouded in fog ..
Paddling through the cold dark waters, wondering what lies beneath.
The sun is rising and the birds are singing their songs to sleeping trees.
Throw out your line and begin to reel in slowly and gently .. nothing.
You try again casting farther, there's pressure on the rod and you reel it in .. BREAKFAST!

I know ..
Fishing .. the sun is high and the air is hot .. you're floating in silence.
One hand trailing in the cool water below .. the other tightly holding your fishing rod.
Off in the distance, sounds of beach noises and boats can be heard faintly.
Waiting .. you enjoy the sound of your surroundings and the cool breeze coming off the lake.
A pull .. sitting up straight you give the rod a jerk and set the line.
Reeling, reeling .. you start the process of bringing in your catch .. LUNCH!

I know ..
Fishing .. the sky is a beautiful red and orange .. the sun is hiding behind the hills and trees.
Dark shadows cast over the water .. the frogs and crickets try to sing out to each other.
Swat, swat .. you are not alone enjoying the quiet evening in search of food.
You are food to hungry pesky mosquitoes trying to dine on you.
You sit without making a sound, watching the red and white bobber ..it disappears and then it's back.
It begins to dance up and down, across the water .. with steady even turns you reel it in .. SUPPER!