Rainbow Trout
The sound of a river flowing ferociously-
water washing the side of the rock we sit on.
The wind rustles through the brush,
bringing cool morning air with it.
It's nearly six a.m.
Looking over,
seeing a
man in flannel and cut-off jeans.
My father.
He's casted out his freshly-baited line,
hoping to bring home freshwater meat for dinner.
Our car is parked way up on the road-
out of sight.
We fight often;
honestly, sometimes I become convinced I hate him.
But this,
I cherish this.