Boreas adds his chill once more,
turning his cool breeze, into an icy gale,
but that will not deter me at all,
for dear Thomas awaits with his baits,
for eighteen long months we have
been apart, due to the continuous
plague, that continues with it’s
destruction, division and dissatisfaction.
Anyway, back to something more
harmonious, I think “wait, a bait,
what if I catch a bike, for I’ve never
fished at all in my life”, but dear Thomas
will indeed be my guide, so some fruits
of the Trent, I will uncover with a smile,
but even if we are “pond beat”, the main
thing is our reunion on the river bank.
We greet each other; after an impromptu
detour, for all over the shop we go, in order
to quicken our meeting, then we head down
Millgate, and over a bridge, when he sets up
his line, I make our outdoor lounge, then Boreas
blusters once, so I get our libation warmers
out, Thomas, a Peroni, mine a Kronenbourg,
and we wait with bated breath, for our needed bite.
Then after our much needed catch up, a discussion
of both everything and nothing, the tension, our
tension, becomes the tension of the wire, our eyes
wide and cheering, we pull up an eight and thirteen
pounder, not a flounder, but two silvery barbels,
and we both agree, that for a first timer like me,
“it was a fine session; indeed!” Helios returns home,
as should we, for the cold and the dark are not
convenient, thus we’ll return on a day when the
weather’s more sufficient, and as we retire for the
evening; both Thomas and I shall thank, for our
glorious productive reunion on the river bank.