03-15-2013, 02:47 AM
Ode to spring fishing
I look out my window and feel the warmth; the snow is melting and the ice in retreat.
It was a good winter season, but it’s time to move on, dreaming of adventures on the soft pond.
I have stowed the Ice gear deep in the shed, my next move bounces through my head.
Reels to re-string, lures to sort, hoping and searching for Ice free reports.
The Boat is prepped and ready to go, why is Mother Nature so darn slow.
Do I head south? Mexico way or do I wait just one more day.
Oh lord I know I am on edge, digging for worms, in the rose hedge.
Work often seems an endless blur, mostly day dreams, of big fish on my lure.
Truthfully this ailment I do bare, cannot be denied by you fisher man out there.
What can we do, what can we say, hopefully we can all survive until May.
This Spring fever they talk of, I truly believe, just don’t think it can be cured by TV.
The purr of the motor, the blips on the screen, beautiful vision of lakes blue green.
The bend of the rod, the fish in the net, is the only cure, yeah that’s a sure bet.
Warmth of the sun, calm glassy lakes, nothing better than a tasty fish bake.
So bow your heads, clasp your hands, and pray to the fish gods to provide a good year.
Before you know it damn Winter will be here.
[signature]
I look out my window and feel the warmth; the snow is melting and the ice in retreat.
It was a good winter season, but it’s time to move on, dreaming of adventures on the soft pond.
I have stowed the Ice gear deep in the shed, my next move bounces through my head.
Reels to re-string, lures to sort, hoping and searching for Ice free reports.
The Boat is prepped and ready to go, why is Mother Nature so darn slow.
Do I head south? Mexico way or do I wait just one more day.
Oh lord I know I am on edge, digging for worms, in the rose hedge.
Work often seems an endless blur, mostly day dreams, of big fish on my lure.
Truthfully this ailment I do bare, cannot be denied by you fisher man out there.
What can we do, what can we say, hopefully we can all survive until May.
This Spring fever they talk of, I truly believe, just don’t think it can be cured by TV.
The purr of the motor, the blips on the screen, beautiful vision of lakes blue green.
The bend of the rod, the fish in the net, is the only cure, yeah that’s a sure bet.
Warmth of the sun, calm glassy lakes, nothing better than a tasty fish bake.
So bow your heads, clasp your hands, and pray to the fish gods to provide a good year.
Before you know it damn Winter will be here.
[signature]