BEEP, BEEP, BEEP,

The alarm clock awakens me,

Forcing my pulse to race for a split second.



I drowsily slap the smooth snooze button,

Making my Timex clock shut its ugly mouth.

I crawl out of my warm bed,

Feeling the fluffy carpet in between my toes.



As I slip into my ragged fishing clothes,

I think about the many fishing trips before.

They are embedded in my mind,

Like carvings in stone.



I step outside and feel the cool air run into my nose,

I become excited and awakened as it tickles my body.

I am a child on Christmas Eve,

Not able to wait for the inevitable adventure that lies ahead.

I am carving another memory.



I finally arrive at my destination.

What is it? You ask,

What is this destination I have felt such anticipation over?

It is my pot of gold,

A serene, silent sanctum of surprising significance.



I cast my neon green Panther Martin fishing lure,

Breaking the water's blue surface.

I scar the once glassy appearance,

With a single slowly moving ripple that disappears in time.



My pole bends,

My pole surges forward,

Accepting the tug given by the Rainbow Trout.



I can hear the reel ratcheting as I draw the fish nearer!

Watching the fish erupt out of the water and soar into the air!

Acting so much different from the deep swimming Northern Pike,

Which rarely shows its wicked face until it is pulled onto shore.

I am carving another memory.



Finally my catch has been brought to shore.

I struggle to release the hook from its small mouth,

My nose is like a net,

Catching the awakening, fishy smell of a beautiful Rainbow Trout.



What will I do with this fish?

I will gut it,

Fillet it,

Savor every filling bit of its warm, zesty and sweet pink meat,

And use it to carve another memory.