FISHIN' TRIP
     by Hilma (Volcano) Volk

"My what a beautiful day!"
He ran to the gate and waved.
"Gee, what pretty ponies! Hey,
This is moment must be saved."

He pulled out a camera and said, "Here,
Would you take my picture please.
And get that mountain in the rear."
I snapped as he said, "Cheese!"

"And how 'bout one of me and a horse.
Just wait till my friends see.
I've got to get one of you, of course.
What a thrill this is going to be."

"Bring a rain coat like I asked you to?"
He gulped, "You're kidding, right?
There's not a cloud. Look at that blue!
Think it'll rain?" I said, "Might."

I grabbed a spare one from the shed
And tied it to his saddle.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head
As if my brain was addled.

We rode off up to the hills.
He chatted all the while.
"Feel that fresh air through your gills."
All I could do was smile.

Two hours later, conversation wore,
We reached our destination.
I could tell Chuck's butt was gettin' sore,
But he was lovin' his vacation.

I strung the fly line on his rod,
Tied on a wicked nymph,
Showed where to cast with just a nod,
Then gazed up at the cliff.

Puffy white clouds, sailing swift,
Foretold a storm cloud brewing
Beyond that rocky precipice.
I checked how Chuck was doing.

"You couldn't ask for a better day!"
He released his second trout.
I nodded an approving way,
Then got the raincoats out.

Thunder echoed off canyon walls,
With the sky still mostly blue.
Then tiny little frozen balls
Began to spit and spew.

The sky turned black, the lightning flashed,
And our skin began to sting
From being pelleted and lashed
By pea-sized icy things.

The wall of hail was coming down
Thick as I'd ever seen,
Until three inches on the ground
Had flattened all the green.

My fingers numb, I packed the gear
On horses that were shiverin'.
Soon the sky began to clear.
I looked and Chuck was grinnin'.

The fish were jumpin' in the stream;
The rod was in it's case.
Chuck said, "This must be a dream.
We just can't leave this place.

"Will this weather hold?" he asked.
"Could go one way or the other -
Could be nice, could all be past,
Or that cloud could have a brother."

The canyon rumbled up again.
Loud the thunder boomed.
Chuck said, "We're gone, my friend.
This fishing trip is doomed."

Back at the ranch I'm finally warm.
Chuck's bottom is in pain.
"You were wrong," he grabbed my arm
And quipped, "It didn't rain."

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