10,383. EVERY CARNIVAL COUNTS FOR SOMETHING

EVERY CARNIVAL 

COUNTS FOR SOMETHING

When the Spring finally brushes the

horizon, I think of country things; the 

slow move of grasses on the meadow 

near the barn, that trill of peepers, 

somewhere. Even the moon comes 

differently then, and I watch the 

Jaenger kid as he looks up at the 

light. His porch is in my sights,

as the dark night, slightly moonlit 

but better lit by young Carl's porchlamp,

proclaims new time and we can stand

outdoors. Tomorrow is fishing day, the

first one when the small rivers run

legal with their trout and their sunnies.

Boys will be out, bright and early, you 

can bet, with poles and lanterns, hooks 

and dreams and stories already of what 

they've thrown back in.