The meaning of life
In a quiet cove I sit, on pulpy stump.
Bulrushes surround: corndogs on waving sticks.
The merciless keen of cicadas.
The breeze is blue.
In chest waders with broad shoulder straps,
I am godawful hot.
My rod lays on flattened reeds
while i munch a sandwich of lettuce, tomato, bright orange cheese.
A darting flutter surprises me, hovering for a taste.
The Dragonfly-
black copter fuselage, biplane wings of foil irridescent.
Noiseless, it flirts for a moment longer,
then pulls my glance to the swirling eddies.
What it seeks there, who is to know.
One of the water walkers?
But, no. There is a stalker.
In shiny convulse from bubbling stream,
he meets his fate
in the grab of the trout.
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Lee Dunn View All
Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.
Lake fishing! It’s been ages but I remember!
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True story. It has been ages for me too, but I remember that day and that hungry trout and that poor fly.
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