dangling feet from the bench
giggling, dodging tiny pinch
sipping juice, nibbling burger
spitting crums; who is farther
leaves racing downhill
stop at riverbank, stay still
soaking wet for frogs to play
some float, a shed for fishey
dragon flies are flying low
dip their tails; gently go
fishes so close to surface
a splash, a bite... a miss
ripples rock lilies pod
snails fall to bottom, mud
scavenging fish mouth, trap
suck all flesh; spit out scrap
fishing pole remain untouch
waiting; so beautiful to watch
two giggling kids always hope
to catch one for hearty soup
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sounds like a nice day with the kids. Pleasant to read. Sincerely, Connie Webb