here is a cute little diddy for you!!!
come fly with me

we will walk our boat down on it's wheels
the first hot day, how good it feels
we'll grab a beer, or maybe two
off to the lake, just me and you
we'll bring our poles, a prayer, a wish
we'll catch a buzz, some fun, a fish
but not just like any other year
cause we've prepared our own fishing gear
with our own two hands, some thread and hooks
we've created flies, like in the books
we'll toss them in and wait a while
with our own flies we'll fish in style
we'll laugh, we'll sing, enjoy the day
we'll catch a fish in our own way
and thats what he meant when he said to me
marry me babe, come fly with me!

I WROTE THIS FOR MY HUSBAND ON OUR ANNIVERSARY!!!!!

Thanks for the Robert Service poem. He has always been one of my favorites along with Kipling:

"When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Then roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
And go to your God like a soldier."

Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Here is one of my favorites, from my favorite author.

Testament of a Fisherman
I fish because I love to; because I love the environs where trout are found, which are invariably beautiful, and hate the environs where crowds of people are found, which are invariably ugly; because of all the television commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing I thus escape; because, in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing things they hate, my fishing is at once an endless source of delight and an act of small rebellion; because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed or impressed by power, but respond only to quietude and humility and endless patience; because I suspect that men are going along this way for the last time, and I for one don't want to waste the trip; because mercifully there are no telephones on trout waters; because only in the woods can I find solitude without loneliness; because bourbon out of an old tin cup always tastes better out there; because maybe one day I will catch a mermaid; and, finally, not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant - and not nearly so much fun.
-John Voelker (Robert Traver )

Early to bed,
Early to rise,
Hunt like hell,
And make up lies.

Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise;
My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.- Alexander Pope

Here's a little piece I wrote a couple of years back:

BARNEY'S RABBIT STEW

My rabbit stew recipe evolved from a fricasee
Picked up from a guy named Bill, or was it Ted?

With cottontails, I make it white;
With showshoe hares, it's red.

Rabbits are skinned and butchered afield,
Yielding backstraps and leg quarters, right down to the shin.

The meat is wiped clean and allowed to cool;
Then bagged for the carry home with the flavor locked in.

Once home, the meat is de-boned, chunked and tenderized
By removing all tough tissue and pounding well.

Then it's floured and browned in hot butter,
To be covered in liquid and simmered a spell.

The simmering liquid is a magical mix
Of water, bullion cubes and just the right wine.

That all hungry hunters will appreciate
When they sit down to dine.

My rabbit stew, with potatoes, carrots and onions,
Along with lots of tasty, lean and delicious meat

Yields real comfort food when served over a biscuit ,
Providing those who partake with a singular treat!

With the rabbit population dwindling,
And hunting opportunities decreasing day-by day,

I shoot far fewer rabbits...eat far less stew
Than I would if I had my say.

Rabbit Stew Night has become an annual event,
To be enjoyed with friends and family, young and old.

Good days afield and past hunts live on again
For all at the table through the stories told.

All of a sudden...I realize
I have not had my fill of rabbit stew.

And I expect tha many of our group
Probably feel that way, too.

Someday, when that final messenger arrives,
And says, "It's time, Barney; I've come for you."

I'll just say, "Hold your damn horses...
Til I get me one last bowl of rabbit stew!"

Hi...

I once drove 6,000 miles from NY to Alaska for a vacation. I ended staying up there for TWELVE years...!!

Here's a poem I wrote about Alaska's (allegedly) four seasons:

Spring is in the air
The geese are overhead
The sun shines for nineteen hours
Mostly while I'm in bed.

Then summer finally arrives
With daylight from noon 'til noon
Seems like these days will last forever
But this season ends all too soon.

The trees soon shed their finery
And a snowflake is seen here and there
The daylight is shorter, there's wood to be cut
Turn around - autumn's everywhere.

Soon it is winter again
The cold, the dark, the snow
Body and soul seem to slow down a bit
When outside it's fifty below.