Sunrise at Whiskey Jack Lodge, a poem at

Sunrise at Whiskey Jack Lodge

Sunrise at Whiskey Jack Lodge

written by: Sharon Waller Knutson


The sun is a giant fireball
glowing in the gray sky,
reflecting on the water,
the empty boats silhouettes,

still as Whiskey Bay
as he stands listening
to the sound of silence
as his fishing buddies

snore in their sleep
in the cabin behind him
not realizing this will be
their last fishing trip together.

Soon he will hear sloshing
of water as the boats
slide through the lake,
the snapping of lines,

the slapping of walleye
and trout against the deck
the shouting and swearing
as they catch and release.

Then the sizzling of seasoned
fish in the frying pan,
the beer fizzling in the cans,
the laughing and lying

while they play poker,
the sun sets behind the bay
and the seven days fly by
like the great blue herons.

Then he’s back to listening
to the shrill phones ringing,
the whistles blowing,
the balls cracking against the bats,
bouncing into the baskets,

flying across the football field,
the brawling, booing and cheering
and wishes he was watching
the sunrise over Whiskey Jack Lodge.

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