Fried Catfish (Audio) Have a Jazzy New Year

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Many times we look to the coming year with hope that it will be different somehow. Perhaps this year, this time something radical might occur. Perhaps in this moment we might be made new. And the year will morph around the newness that we are. If we would change the world it will happen from the inside out.

“If you would enter the Kingdom of Heaven you must become as a little child.”

Ten year old boy
Slowly carefully, ankle-deep in the water
Cool mud holds his bare feet
The smell of sunshine, and oak, and hay, and red worms, and water, and fish
The familiar sounds of Central Louisiana envelop him, crickets, crows, doves cooing and frogs
He is intent, focused, peering beneath the water’s surface seeking out the places they might be
Predator stalking predator
He is hunter, tan, lean, carrying his primitive tools
Cane pole cut, trimmed, line, hook, can of worms dug from the hill
Worm sacrificed, pierced through with hook
He swings a practiced, perfect arc
Dlop. . . the worms sinks before his prey
His heart pounds, excitement, an eye for any sign
At one with his tools, the cane and line and hook now a part of him
It extends him, makes him powerful, he now can reach into the water where they are
The slightest bump and movement of the line
Wait . . . wait . . . he tells himself, a lesson hard learned
He must succeed
He told his mother that he would provide
His hopes and his still innocent pride hung on that promise
Blood rushing he grips the cane watches the line straighten
Now quickly and with an authority beyond his years he sets the hook
He feels the fierce undulating weight at the end of his self
Cane arched, line stretched, tension but not too much
Give, take, don’t force it, she will come if you are patient, he told himself
The battle raged until she weakened and surrendered
She was glorious
His little heart soared at the conquest
His excitement, his trembling hands claimed her
He turned toward home, quest fulfilled
As he entered the kitchen the fragrance of frying potatoes and onions and pickles filled his lungs
He grinned as he held up his prize to Her
She smiled loving the boy and he was in rapture
Lifted up, hints of manhood pulsing through his veins
She was his world and she believed in him

Peace and Love and Liberty – Plato

30 thoughts on “Fried Catfish (Audio) Have a Jazzy New Year”

  3. I think in the poems like these and the story yesterday you have found your public voice. it’s so obvious when you read them you are telling a story. Sorta like Garrison Keillor. Not sure where the personal stuff would fit in a book of poems just by virtue of that fact that it’s very personal and factual. Perhaps they need to be a separate something or other.

  5. It resonated with me. Thanks. It took me back to my summer days with granny catching trout from the creek. Fried up crisp and eaten like corn on the cob. Eyes wide open.

  6. “The smell of sunshine, and oak, and hay, and red worms, and water, and fish” How absolutely lovely. What a place to stand whether one is young and eager, or experienced, and feeling the pull of a lazy hazy day!

  8. “At one with his tools, the cane and line and hook now a part of him
    It extends him, makes him powerful, he now can reach into the water where they are…” Isn’t that exactly the way it is for someone with a passion. I see that in you. You become one with your pen and paper.

    “Lifted up, hints of manhood pulsing through his veins…” That is too beautiful for any other words to comment on it. And the picture is perfect.

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