THE GRATEFUL NOTEBOOK

WHAT THE OLD PHOTO DOESN'T SAY

Phil hands me the picture without a word
when I open the door.
"My God, Phil, these are my kids.
This picture's gotta be 30 years old.
Are those Nick's kids?"

This is Freeway Lake. Phil and Gale
untied our scrambled lines again and again.
This is the day I threw it all in the lake--
rods, reels, tackle boxes, fish eggs.
The day I said I could be a father
without teaching my kids to fish.

Jim Bodeen
4 December 2010


POST SCRIPT TO THE POEM
LOOKING INTO MY LAST DAY
OF FISHING WITH MY CHILDREN

My kids had to compensate
for their father. What I didn't give them.

There were more things than fishing
they didn't get from their Dad.

Jim Bodeen
4 December 2010


GRANDPA, CAN I HAVE THIS PIN?

            for Josh

Let's see. Burning word.
Burning word?

That's what poets wear,
burning words.

Let me pin this on.
What do poets do?

They play with words.
They make magic.

Burning word, Katie.
Grandpa says it's magic.

Jim Bodeen
3 December 2010


POCKET NOTEBOOK AT THANKSGIVING

            for Katie

Did you write the crab one,
Grandpa? I eat crab, too.

Jim Bodeen
3 December 2010