Poem for Friday and Tundra Swans

Because that’s what he did
By Daniel Lance Patrick

your Father said ice is another world—
if you don’t have respect for it
sooner or later you’ll learn some.
tomorrow you’ll fish at sun-up
dragging both sleds alone across the lonesome
ice to your spot—one sled for the old auger
another for the balance of gear.
you drill five eight-inch holes thirty feet apart
then set the old traps and flags he gave you.
you clip the depth finder and let out the line
through the soft touch of your fingers
down through the holes into the saw tooth water
til it unspools no more, then ease it up—
eight turns on the reel, resting two feet above bottom.
you tie a loop in the line remembering the depth
then pull it all up and hook a minnow through
the fleshy fin on the shine of his spine—
not the mid-section, you want him alive.
you think of his old weathered hands
as you bait the hook—working without gloves
gotta feel the line
set your folding chair and wait
watch every trap for flags to pop
have yourself a beer
because that’s what he did.
you’ll take a picture
to show him what you caught
and if you catch nothing
it’s still fishing
which is more than catching fish.

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Thursday was rainy but unseasonably warm -- in the 50s! So it was a nice afternoon to walk in between storms. I have now finished scanning papers from my in laws, mostly letters from Paul's grandparents to each other and to their children, plus some long letters his father wrote his mother while they were dating and some projects he and his brothers did in school. 

Paul made veggie dumplings and faux moo shu pork for dinner, which was delicious. I had my usual Thursday night fangirl chat while watching the Olympic men's team skating with the sound off -- Nathan Chen looked great -- and afterward the ice dance team skating -- Hubbell and Donohue looked great too. From Mason Neck's wildlife refuge, the tundra swans that winter there: