one of those things
i’d like to do
when i cross that bridge
is
walk through the woods
at the foot of that bridge
to a small lake;
there, i would sit on the shaded bank
with my father, brother, and Henry
with old cane poles with floats,
fishing for crappie
and
swapping tales
of loves,
of the things we have done;
telling our funny stories,
and
chuckling, of course.