poetry by j matthew waters


I awoke around four
on a Sunday morning
and couldn’t get back to sleep
so I got out of bed
and threw my fishing pole
and tackle box in the back seat
of my Bimmer
headed North to the nearest trout stream

When I reached Monastery Creek
I heard a rooster crow
at a nearby farm
awakening all the superstitious critters
who believed I had come
to save their souls

june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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