Once, in a yellow wood where a stream flowed,
I met a rough-hewn, white-haired gentleman
who beckoned, whispered, "This way if you can.
The fishing is better upstream.


For awhile, I listened to the murmur
of water washing worn rocks, and thought
down's easier. But not for what I sought.
The fishing was better upstream.

 

 

Rodney Franklin (AMPAW@aol.com)

 




Watch these pages for more poems by Rod.
In the meantime, click the links below for
poems and stories by our other authors.


Prejudical Planet

A Teacher's Farewell

Tadpole, Tadpole

Summer Daydreams

The River

Summertime Pleasures

An Evening In Maine

The Elders' Road



And.......for many others, click the index image.



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