The Lake

When I went down to the lake,
I saw the place where my uncle used to feed the fish.
As children, with our quick attentions and quick wit,
We would fish from that spot. Cast and tug, we didn't
even need bait. Just a hook, and the trust of the fish,
and we could have something to toss back.

In a deeper part of the lake, there is a car. A '53 Chevy,
rusted and ruined, to make a shady spot for fish to hide.
The car still worked when my uncle found it and bought it
for less than it would sell for scrap. But then he drove
to a spot in the hole that he dug, and left it there,
and as the lake filled in, the car was useless forever.

My uncle took a piece of land, mowed it, shaped it,
dug it. And then he filled it with water and baby fish.
Eventually it became it self-sufficient, and fish ate of plants
and other fish, and teemed with life. Then my uncle had
his second stroke and spent the rest of his life in a bed
while the grass around the lake grew and hid it from the
prying eye; and the fish grew wild and learned how to live
far from the caring hand of man.

She came to my mind there at the lake.

Reviews

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This is good. The imagery is good. I like the last line. I think the sturcture and flow is great. Nice work!