It was late and I had fished too long
the sun was setting fast
twilight bay singing its song
would the boat's old motor last?

Back toward home I sputtered
Would I beat the end of day?
Limping along I muttered,
"How will I find my way?"

And then a quiet came over me
and in that still I looked out.
Just ahead I could barely see
a man landing a speckled trout.

Hot dog! He shouted with zing.
Then he glimpsed my little craft.
In Cajun brogue: "Cher you like fishing
this bay like me, yeah!" he laughed.

I hitched my boat to his joy
then saw the smiling face
I've known since I was a boy
in that glad New Iberia place.

How many of us have hitched our vessel
to this man and felt the surge of his life,
and spoken to him when in a wrestle
with our problems and our strife?

Who of us have taken flight
as a passenger in his jet
or trusted him through our night
or...sat down with him to bet?

Have you been hooked
by a joke or a story or a listening ear
or eaten fresh fish he cooked,
drank the coldest wettest beer?

He manages to find a little more gas
and touch of humor in his steep hard climbs
Or exclaim "Kiss a fat man's ass"
in the fishless times.

In good stretches and bad
in calm of lake or fury of ocean
as husband and dad
he teaches devotion.

To family and friend
he shows us to love,
to respect, and to bend
to the Power above.

He knows how to hear
with compassion and kindness
to our letdown and fear
till we see our own blindness.

So let us all sail
and let us all carry
let the spirit prevail
of our dear precious Gary.

05/15/2012

Author's Note: I wrote this poem May 9, 2015 for my cousin Gary Reed who is having a real rough time in his battle with cancer. Gary has a great sense of humor and a few weeks ago he told me, "Glenn, I want you to write ME a poem while I am still above ground." He had read my poem, "Michael" (see toCreate.net) which I wrote for my nephew who died in January.

Posted on 05/16/2012
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