Monday, August 26th, 2013...3:29 pm

gary c. busha | frog on the bay

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The boy and acorns
someone threw a well aimed shot
and hit his noggin.

Creaking with the waves
the old dock holds memories
so long forgotten.

A gob of seaweed
holds a mini-universe
of wiggling moon fish.

As the day must end
so the boy must say good night
Lake Winnebago.

Learning how to skate
the boy with weak ankles found
himself unable.

If left to himself
clothes would never be picked up
but would crawl away.

The worst punishment
was not the sting of paddle
but sitting an hour.

The boy catches flies
throws them into corner webs
spiders thank their god.

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