Creek Side Rock

This poem is about my favorite fishing hole. It is located in a
steep, Bear infested valley on a wild River in Ontario, Canada.

The Creekside Rock

I searched the forest but could hardly find
that awsome plot to clear my mind.

Down the valley around the bend
I found the rock to sit and mend.

This wise old stone is mine today.
A solid retreat, no work, all play.

I am gathering my senses; I'll stay till it's done
the rock will display them one by one.

This rock has a covering of inch high moss.
A pleasure to rest on this velvet green gloss.

All plant life around me is green and alive.
The flowers are dancing as bees hit and dive.

I praise God for this valley
All creatures and stone.

The smell of the forest gives reason for life.
It savors good memories and cancels old strife.

The sound of the water washes my thoughts.
Each bubble and trickle helps me unwrought.

The pressures of life are flowing away.
Just watching the water releases my cares.

The source of this stream
is constant and sure.

The Willows are swaying
and beg me to stay.

But now it is late and soon I must go,
yet there is still something I must show.

For under this rock is a deep dark hole,
with ice shivering water that beacons my pole.

At the end of my pole a worm lies in wait,
for a big tasty trout that swallows my bait.
- Patrick McGovern