wet muddy wading boots by the door.
waders hanging from the shower curtain rod.
a dirty, smelly, messy truck, in the driveway with a Brule stained floor.
the shed that needs to be re-organized.
the lawn neglected of regular attention.
a house in need to be prepped and winterized.
for weeks and weeks, a hot water bathroom faucet in need of repair.
piles of left over snacks, expired coupons, old mail on the kitchen table.
liqueur cabinet seriously bare.
photo's of the seasons victories...on the kitchen counter, the coffee table, the fly shop bragging wall.
rod tubes and grouse gun sitting in the corner, disguised by sleeping bags and sleeping pads.
half-unpacked luggage bags are in the hall.
fly boxes in need of refilling before winter thaws.
gps chips, delormes, sketches of maps on napkins, placed on the special shelf.
in the fly vest...empty leader packages, used tippet, a few surviving Thing-A-Ma-Bobs.
the fly-tying room in serious despair.
camping cookware waiting to be put back in storage.
fleece and Under Armor everywhere...everywhere.
-Christopher Sprau
Love the poem. So sad the season's come to an end.
ReplyDeleteNo fish, Bummer!!! Should have come up, I had the fishing DT's all weekend. My casting arm was shaking non-stop, and the wife said I was setting the hook in my sleep. Just maybe if you had your lucky charm with you the fish would have been more cooperative. Oh well, coulda, woulda, shoulda.
ReplyDeleteMaybe my favorite entry. Nice poem Christopher.
ReplyDelete