Now that’s definitely awkward! Augusta tour boat jetty, with the Blackwood River riding high after heavy winter rains.
Wooden Bream
The evening light is dim,
and the tide betwixt,
swash, swash, swash,
lapping the timber sides
in rhythmic beat.
There’s a sole light with courting moths,
and shadows are moving about.
It’s deeper further along,
and the pros are casting there.
We’re at the shallow end,
the beginners place.
I set my rod,
the rig is ready,
bait set and the line is cast.
Then in it comes,
zzzzzzzzzzzz
an angler’s hazzard appears,
an inedible blowie.
Father demands a turn,
the rig is ready,
bait set and the line is cast,
and then it strains,
his excitement mounts.
He yells, “I’ve got one!”
The pros all turn,
“this must be good.”
But I cut the line,
his catch is inedible too,
a wooden bream.
“Dad, you’ve hooked the jetty.”
©Paul Cannon
This poem is a true story, one of my childhood memories. Black Bream is species of fish found in the Swan river, it is said that they are cunning and wily and hard to catch.
Paul,
pvcann.com
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