dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: fishing

There aren’t pearly gates,

Just one large shiny metal fence,

Padlocked and guarded

With a “No Trespassing” sign.

Rivers run deep with icy sweet tea,

Streets aren’t paved at all.

The gold is saved for

Sunsets and fishing hooks.

Trails through the woods

Lead to endless grassy pastures

Where mashed potato clouds

Drip gravy, and buttered biscuits

Fall like manna from the sky.


Mountain music in his soul,

Skill in his hand,

He swam deep in the ocean,

Painted its beauty from land.


King of boggles and crosswords,

Western Electric retiree,

He worked mathematical puzzles,

Had no college degree.


Loved to argue opinions,

Had his share of life’s hurts,

He smoked Camel cigars

In his red flannel shirts.


Our shared bread and butter

Was Big Red and Root Beer.

We rocked in his hammock

And fished off his pier.