The Hatted Fish
A few days after the downpour,
That relentless raining of cats and fish,
My young daughter and I trailed along the potted riverwash
Under the sweltering sun, examining flotsam
That the descending waters had left,
Sand-combing Santa Maria-style.
Pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat
She quickly found three small struggling catfish
Gilled in a shallow puddle, flopping about
Abandoned, from the past raging torrent
Of last week's endless cloud-bursting deluge;
And soon to be gasping for fishy breath,
Then stinking up the hardened clay
Like one of ol' Moses’ done wonders.
Pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat
My daughter begged me to save them from their Niled demise.
So struck by her empathy, I pulled off my dark felt hat
And scooped the scaled denizens with murky water up to the brim,
A vivid warmed witness to my daughter's rosy felt heart.
Pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat
Then we ran like the livin’ dickens four long blocks
To our two-decker house while the water rapidly
Seeped through the felt, the priceless pets,
Extended in front of me, in their draining pool,
A votive offering to the Almighty,
One more Fatherly blessed Sunday.
Pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat
Upstairs in her frilly bathroom, my angled angel turned on the faucet
And lovingly released her little ichthys into the spotless bathtub.
They swam and gobbled up fish stuff she sprinkled in;
Though soon she flopped them into a glass basin.
Pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat
For several years the small finned orphans grew,
Nurtured and watched by their waterworld sprite--
Man those suckers got big! --So we finally bought
A huge tank for their swimmingly aquatic life
And they whiskered looming about, those Huck Finn dear ones,
Rivering through my daughter's growing into adolescence.
What a hat trick, so Noahed,
This miracle of childhood,
Yes, pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat.
First published in Structo Magazine, United Kingdom
A few days after the downpour,
That relentless raining of cats and fish,
My young daughter and I trailed along the potted riverwash
Under the sweltering sun, examining flotsam
That the descending waters had left,
Sand-combing Santa Maria-style.
Pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat
She quickly found three small struggling catfish
Gilled in a shallow puddle, flopping about
Abandoned, from the past raging torrent
Of last week's endless cloud-bursting deluge;
And soon to be gasping for fishy breath,
Then stinking up the hardened clay
Like one of ol' Moses’ done wonders.
Pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat
My daughter begged me to save them from their Niled demise.
So struck by her empathy, I pulled off my dark felt hat
And scooped the scaled denizens with murky water up to the brim,
A vivid warmed witness to my daughter's rosy felt heart.
Pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat
Then we ran like the livin’ dickens four long blocks
To our two-decker house while the water rapidly
Seeped through the felt, the priceless pets,
Extended in front of me, in their draining pool,
A votive offering to the Almighty,
One more Fatherly blessed Sunday.
Pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat
Upstairs in her frilly bathroom, my angled angel turned on the faucet
And lovingly released her little ichthys into the spotless bathtub.
They swam and gobbled up fish stuff she sprinkled in;
Though soon she flopped them into a glass basin.
Pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat
For several years the small finned orphans grew,
Nurtured and watched by their waterworld sprite--
Man those suckers got big! --So we finally bought
A huge tank for their swimmingly aquatic life
And they whiskered looming about, those Huck Finn dear ones,
Rivering through my daughter's growing into adolescence.
What a hat trick, so Noahed,
This miracle of childhood,
Yes, pulling catfish from a mad-hatter’s hat.
First published in Structo Magazine, United Kingdom
