THE TURTLE
© 2014 KENNETH HARPER FINTON
Four she is, just four years old,
And she had never fished.
“I want to fish,” she told her Dad.
“I want to catch a fishie.”
Dad could think of no good reason
Not take her fishing.
They went on down to Turtle Lake
One muggy, summer evening.
The birds were gone, the wind was still
The lake was grey and sullen.
She cast a line along the shore
And watched where it had fallen.
Before too long her bobber sank
She had a bite ‘twas certain.
Dad showed her how to reel it in
And she was quite determined.
To her surprise, the line she’d cast
Had hooked a snapping turtle.
She dropped the pole and ran away
As fast as she was able.
“I killed him,” she screamed all aghast
“I’ve killed a lovely turtle.”
She ran into approaching night
Jumped over the bog myrtle.
Dad could only shake his head
And think of his selection
Of this lake to take the child.
It was a valid question.
The next day she said she would try
Once more to hook a ‘fishie’.
Evidently, she’d forgot
Her earlier misgivings.
This time she caught a smaller fish.
Her smile was so contagious.
If nothing else, she learned about
The values found in patience.
