Two older boys and me, loaded with gear
Came to the green river in nighttime.
We trolled the river and laid out some lines
And water was over my chest at times.
It was a year like any other year.
Our forests lost and farmland gone to seed,
We caught some fish and cooked them on a fire
Watched the water and talked about desire
Howled at the moon and called each other liar
while Nixon wept and televised his greed
box turtle road 
Good to hear you. Greed is the culprit.
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Thanks!
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Sweet.
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You’re sweet, my sweet.
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Great Poem, Gary! I love the rhyme patterns, the holistic perspective of nature!
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Thank you, Gideon!
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Beautiful, and I feel the distance that has to be crossed if we are to make it. I saw a bald eagle last year perched on a tree above the S. Toe, and down the river a little further, a man in it fishing, geared up to the hilt. The eagle, geared to the hilt with what he’d been gifted at birth, made even this – a simple man fishing a river, look like pure silliness.
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Yes! So nice to hear from you, Katherine. I miss our soulful conversations, and I love your photos!
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