Fishing

Springtime in Redding was fun.
We lived in a pink house,
At the bottom of some yellow hills.
A creek rolled past us.
I was about 9 years old.
I liked to run through the field
With it's crackley weeds.
I chased butterflies
And collected spiders.
I used to tear heads
Off of grasshoppers.
The wild flowers
colored the field.
I loved to pick them
And give them to my mom.

The creek fascinated me.
I sat on a rock with my feet
Dangling and splashing
As I wiggled my toes.
I was watching tadpoles.
Some of them were growing legs.
They were turning into frogs.

I saw a fish in the middle of the creek bed.
I balanced myself while I stood up slowly,
Hanging on to the round slippery rocks
With my toes.
I stood above the fish
With my legs spread apart.
I didn't really think that
I could catch that fish.
But I would try.
I bent over trying to keep my balance.
I reached down and grabbed it.
It slipped through my fingers.
I kept grabbing and splashing
And amazingly keeping my balance.
I finally was able to hang on to him.
I took him home for my mom to cook.
She said,"That's just an old carp.
Garbage fish."
I thought to myself,
"I risked my life on those slippery rocks
to catch a garbage fish!"