The only crush, I want at all,
Is the crush of grapes, in the fall.
Those ripened grapes, luscious on the vine,
Will soon be, my supply of wine.

A double Impatiens, am I
Very pleasing to the eye.
I hope that what you see
Makes this day go happily.

A pall of gloom hangs overhead
as darkness slides to ground
and sadness crushes life from love,
while tears fall on the breast
for an absent lover.

Years ago, very early in the day,
The month was December, icy cold.
Up before daylight, put on my clothes.
Put my gear in the truck, all covered with frost.
Stop for a coffee and something to eat,
Then driving to Monroe, to the river Sky.
Get out my rod and lures, I started to fish.
The rigging I used had surgical tubing for the weight.
An artificial lure, a long cast up stream,
Now this was fishing; you know what I mean.
The elusive Steelhead was waiting for me.
All I needed was the fish to see
The lure, moving close to the bed.
After several casts, my line would not move.
Looking at the rod tip, I looked twice
And found that the guides were covered in ice.
The line wouldn't move, not much for me,
So into the water, the rod tip went and now it was free.
Back to casting and I noticed my hands were cold,
Even with fingerless gloves, they'll work I was told.
Fishing for hours, with absolutely no luck,
I returned to the confines of my old truck.
No Steelhead for me on this fine day,
So back home I went to see the Seahawks play.