quite a catch

walking around holmes lake
just once
because it was as long as i could
hold you in my heart
and take everything in
without bursting
i first saw an older man
who said that's a pretty dog
is that a husky?
i said yeah, are you catching
anything good?
he said a catfish...
it's something i can catch.

coming toward us was
an older woman
with a big smile

the grasses grew straight
toward the sun
yet each took their own path
as they went in every direction
and grew up

young men were fishing
below the bridge
unlike us old souls
saying hello to each other
like it was our last chance
they quietly held their youth
as they dipped their poles
into the water

an african american man
about my age
walked up from the water
and i regarded him
a fellow traveler
with a fishing pole
not on a schedule
this morning

i walked by what some might call
a marina, with torn flags,
and thought of you at northstar
charming me with a story of a couple
who raised children on a sailboat
who said there were highs and lows
to their journey, but they never
regretted taking it

i came upon a cluster
of more lily pads
than i knew were possible
if you were with me
i would have wanted to go
for a closer look

toward the next bridge
i heard some bugs,
maybe crickets
creating a musical ambience
i wished i could name
i wished i could name
the bugs, too

looking up i saw
a goth kid on a bike
with so many piercings
in his face i could be
scared and wonder
why he wasn't in school
and then remembered
he's just a spirit
with the need
to be gently recognized

and then a duck
of some kind
flew straight across
the lake
as a creature
with so much freedom
to pursue any flight he chose
as long as he flies
in accordance with the season

up the hill, i walked by
mary pipher's house
and saw the lamp on
in her living room,
wondered what she was
reading or writing
saw her vista
was reminded of her workshop
where i met pete, barb,
the woman who made owning
my own home possible...
(the therapist who has helped
make loving you possible)
i wondered if you had read
any of her books
i marvelled at her ability
to sell her writing

toward the end of
one journey around the lake
were rows of ducks
with heads tucked
in their own plumage
just a couple
beginning to set sail
for the day
while the rest
nestled
in their own warmth

and then
before the parking lot
as a final greeting,
as a full circle,
were rows of sunflowers
reminding me
of my last sight with you
of my last sight of you
in your pink shirt
with the fish on it
from some student
named stephanie
who saw
that you are
quite a catch.