Poem of the River

The serpentine swish of the fishing line,
cast upstream where the fishing’s fine.
Maybe a tench or maybe a bream,
but things aren’t always what they seem.
I felt the take and made the strike,
judged the weight and thought of pike;
then lifting rod with all my might,
brought it home and strike a light,
dipped the net to trap the loot...
a size eleven wellington boot!

By Alan Dickie