One windless evening the bass started biting
just before sunset as I glided along
the bayou in a pirogue with a ******
of the paddle here and there for direction.

I was casting a topwater up against
the bank among the cypress trunks and stumps
and overhanging limbs and shrubs and twitching
and popping the bait until the fish struck.

To see and hear and feel the violent burst
of each strike and to set the hook firmly
in each jaw and each battle kept me out
until the mosquitoes and the gator came.

At first a bumpy head at least a foot wide
and three feet long with big shiny black eyes
inched toward the pirogue and me as if we
were just what he had in mind for dinner.

I dropped my rod and thought I’d better paddle
fast and hard before Wally got too close
but Wally sensed panic and to my horror
I saw the swish of his tail fifteen feet back.

The gator accelerated smooth and quick
and locked its gaze upon the very spot
the paddle broke water to push me away
as the jaws snapped shut and cracked it in half.

I slid away watching as the gator shook
its monstrous head free of the broken splinter
and I realized now he’d be coming again
for me down the bayou with half a paddle.

The pirogue rocked on the wave Wally made
during all the commotion and sure enough
he came again stalking the little boat
now stalled and adrift so I had to act fast.

I untied and lifted my stringer of bass
gasping and wet like a shiny green fleece
and hefted and hurled it aiming precisely
at the slashing jaws of the reptile beast.

The gator struck at the fish with a splash
of his big toothy head and chomped down on three
huge bass and swallowed them whole in one gulp
then snapped up three more that were still on the string.

So Wally was happy for now as the sun
went down and I wondered how to get back
to the dock half a mile away in the dark
with Wally nearby and perhaps hungry yet.

Then I got an idea and picked up my rod
and cast the old topwater past Wally’s head
and chugged it back popping in front of his face
where soon he attacked it and hooked himself good.

Wally went down with a **** and a swirl
and made such a wave I grabbed the boat rail
with one hand while holding onto the rod
which bent almost double as the line stretched tight.

The pirogue took off like a rocket boat
as Wally swam up the bayou to flee
the pressure and drag and the alien hook
underwater and then on top with me.

In no time I neared the dock in the dark
and slackened the line until Wally shook free
then glided right up to the dock and *******
and got out fishless but at least in one piece.

There's a saga in every direction
Stories to be told , a lesson languishing -
o'er tilled countryside and dirt road
Smokehouses , immaculate small towns
Sorghum presses , Pecan groves , Loblolly Crowns
May Robin carols , topwater Bream slice the surface of
brook fed glass ponds  , Whippoorwill's , Pileated Knights worshipping the given Dawn

Lantern flies descending from Water Oak canopies , hopeful Thrushes cry for Heavens hidden stellary
A seemingly placid pond becomes Molasses , quivers and grows eerie in wavering moonshine , Whippoorwills relay songs of the Creek Indian nighttime
Katydids , Field Crickets and Barn Owls fill Magnolia , Wilkerson Mill promenades , Shellcracker disquiet the countryside with topwater
explosions of hunger and predation* ...

Green Coleman lanterns hung over the water , craving the humid night , nocturnal creatures bathed in the artificial lights ....
The metronomic crash of breakers on the aluminum hulled vessel , baiting hooks and tying gear by flashlight or sheer memory .. Horned Owls , Killdeer and Whippoorwills filled the dark night with haunting songs , the crash of bass and topwater shellcrackers would chill the blood for a moment , cause you to breathe in deep  , exhale out loud .... The aroma of lake water , insect repellent and cigar smoke , chewing on a plug of Bloodhound , strained eyes concentrating on nothing but that bobber , waiting on that tasty fish to take it and run ....
Working your piece of the lake till the early morning Sun ....

Toking at the dam around twelve
Listening for rod tip bells
Muds slapping topwater , the hollow ring
of paddle striking boat , a bowed rod , a midnight
fight on a starlit warm Rico night
Connecting the heavens with wondering eyes
Tobacco smoke rising high into the sky
A jigger of peach brandy warmth
A chicken sandwich from the One Stop* ..

Atlanta is 45 miles far too close
The only sound I want is Bear Creek
flowing , morning cattle off to the
highland , topwater bass in the stream lowland
A snorting old buck in the grassland
A Massey Harris turning plowland
The sound of rain tapping on a tin roof
The clicking of a stallions hoofs
Distant thunder on a lazy Hill Country night
The March moon shining bright* ...

Port Lake sunshine , a beam of pure serendipity
Ushering Noon hour topwater magic to all fortunate enough
to bear witness ...
River dancers swirl about felled timber , painted turtles
tred the surface endlessly , broom sage waves from
the curious creek fed beginning ...
Leaf boats ride the wind churned waters , a prisoner
to her casual whims ..Talking hardwoods , sash-shaying
hillside Pines , ferns and wild berry shrubs loom large
at the southern periphery , tall tree reflections soothe my weary
eyes , a daytime Moon rides the True blue impassioned sky ..

Lake flies lighting reflective glass
Olive eyes focused on the blue earth
Training the purple wild flower fields -
of western Chattahoochee river country
Whirling , advancing , rock patterned shoals ,
river dancer hideaways , painted turtle middles
Mud cats , rock bass and sundry panfish skim -
the shallows harnessed in Georgia granite , indigenous
red , white clay banks , clear running waters and every
colored flower imaginable
Dandelion seedlings and dragonflies hurry downstream , lit
by the afternoon Lamp of the Almighty
Pipers of every pitch occupy every inch of the surrounding
heavens with emotional song
Ever watchful Crows burst into joyful laughter with each
Smallmouth topwater explosion
Herons work the rock island summits , Blue Jays station the crags
as the pace quickens to the Gulf , curious livestock command the bluffs
South as cascading waters grow ...

In the cold northeastern flow , silvery gusty moments persuade brown waters , Pines stand tall in her reflection .. Cirrus whips and windsongs
filter through earnest thicket , delivering free voices ... March's airborne delivery divides morning tidings , in question of the young day ..
She hides from something yet unknown , her topwater lying tepid and unsure , shorebirds fly low across the waters tension and temptation , red songbirds answer from each shoreline , belated zephyrs swirl in temporary confusion ..
I vision the writer , feel the cool struggle of verse upon the empty page ,
where solutions lie to many an inquiry , thought turns to Oak leaves
sailing the ever evolving lake , to the brief intense sun showers that garble the poets stage ....
Chortling , avian neighbors delivering previously unheard melody , turtles vying for the crest of exposed Oak branches , godspeed the call of warm weather nestlings , the playful fawn , the taste of May ..Greens , clusters of dead Pine cloaked in tall broom sage , life slowly returning to zero ..
Sparrow , Finch and Wren escort me home as I view rolling hillsides amid the cracking of elder giants along the sandy field road...
A witness to change , to eroding wind and the cataclysm of time , to mud puddles brimming with life .. Sing for the day sweet Cardinal , for blue ceiling influences among amber hues and gray scenes , color my beautiful vision with vibrant , native grasses and natural serenity ...

The song of the Killdeer across the quiet , still pool .. Harboring great anticipation , anchoring a Hula Popper to a gold swivel , the first cast over the olive green waters .. Slowly twitching the rod tip causing the
characteristic audible 'plop ' easily caught within earshot followed by
the topwater eruption ! Caught off guard , setting the barbs with one hand while negotiating fallen timber and stumps , the rod bent double ! Ten pound line stretched to the very limit , the whine of the reel , the threshing of tail fin now with a first glimpse of the goliath just below the surface ! The first Largemouth Bass of the young fishing season ! The quarry locks eyes with angler , the battle grows even more intense , finally your "Hawg' is in the net ! Your cigarettes are strewn everywhere , your tackle box was turned over , your catch has wet you from head to toe but you don't even notice !

The lake flies are in full animation , the solar deities working incognito ..
Through nimbus blankets of calm afternoon , casual glimmers of
light , our life giver in evening repose , the eerie feeling of 'calm prior to storm .
Gray Heron's work their territories , Hawks fly figure eights high above the Juniper , White Pine , Elmwood canopy ..Bullfrogs settle in for the nighttime fireworks display as the first rumble of thunder sounds far off in the range ..Insectivorous topwater fish leave breakers beneath lilly pads , dance the waters surface for the feast at hand ..

The bottom land was made
for slide guitar and mason jars
Water from the 'River Jordan' with
blue notes , alms for vagabonds ,
I'm quite familiar with their songs
Nor am I the first untouchable touched by
by the Live Oak riverbanks , I belong
on this bank recalling hardscrabble decades ,
a marriage without love , a thirty- eight token
from a hollow point self medicated Grandfather , Father ,
and two uncle problem solution , I dilute these memories
with Painters **** and the cold April waters of the *****
Within the mud on these two feet rest the others , reduced to
dirt and river water , fed on by trees , dung beetles , tiger mosquitoes , bobcats , snappers and coyotes
Cool topwater holding the Milky Way in her lap ,
air filled in pine sap , 'brackwater' and red mud
My cigarette , my **** , my shotgun* ..

I ran to awaiting hillside , crushing-
grass and microscopic fauna beneath naked feet
Killed for a beautiful view
'Twould be better to report on such-
miracles from indoors
Was a jaunt through green scenery a homicidal-
memory
To safely assume the Red hawk is circling for his next meal
Fish are feeding at topwater , trees are dying , toppling over
Creeks are rushing to river , Bluebirds attending their nestlings
Warm winds grinding rocks ever so slowly , a red Fox is at rest
Is the end a step higher , have the random killed received a great reward
How high the trees minus the pang of death to halt their reach
How odd the beach with no shell to teach
To curse the cold of January with no knowledge of June
Life equals discovery , equals eternal motion

Golden days among dancing trees
With agog bees tapping on windows ,
dragonflies carried on fragrant windsong ,
where yellow butterflies alight in spring
meadow , topwater explosions 'neath lakeland
palmettos
The music of April enlightening sable woodlands ,
o'er crystal spillways unto brash brooks ,
carry the news of the day harper bluebirds ,
curious cardinals , laughing crows , bronze sparrows
within 'boisterous redtip hedgerow*' .....

The sound of millwrights at work shall remain forever
The turn of the wheel will mingle with white shoal harmonies ,
topwater perch eruptions and birds of every color and euphonic song
Crystal waters displaying painted stones shall remain secured twixt creekside shrubbery , centurion oaks , sweet gum , juniper and tall evergreens ... Native grasses and vivid wildflowers will grace the Cotton Indian shoreline evermore

Old Gray Gertie shades the Indian Creek -
with taut steel arms and wood planks
Cackling birds of every size and shape -
perched high above the root entangled banks
Rock bass skim the turbulent topwater -
for morning snacks
The Old Mill whistles with the ghost -
of the grinding wheel filling flour sacks
Gerties air is sweet ambrosia ,
Wild gardenia and rose , honeysuckle and -
magnolia
Churning rapids mimic the laughter of -
many a child , the alms of Creek fathers ,
the reverence of naked feet in cool waters
Sunshine reveals her gem studded brilliance ,
she's passing throughout the country foothills with southern charm and diligence* ...