When our whole world was young and small.....

Silent Pond

Down the creek a bit from our house
the old mill pond sits and waits.
An unmoving film crusted surface allows
airborne insects to walk on water.
The pond is silent and lifeless
because the sluice gates are never opened
after the mill closed and the children
who fished here moved away.
That ended a part of life for parents
who for five generations taught kids
how to catch bream with half worms
and how to slice open their bellies
cleaning them out and scraping away
tiny scales so the two halves
could be fried along with other filets
for a mess of fish in a skillet.
Memories overwhelm standing
by the silence-coated body of water
too small to be called a lake
and too shallow to breed anything
other than precious memories
and the bragging fish tales
we like telling to our grandchildren.


F. William Broome 2005-07