WHAT IF....

If I'd never fished I'd not have seen
ducks flaring in a beaver pond
with heads and sometimes wings of green.
I'd wave my hand and they'd respond
by landing a lot farther away.

I once saw a fish eat a snake there,
a sudden splash and it was gone.
With now passed brother I would share
tripping on logs just after dawn
while near beavers would splash and spray.

Rising mists on a calm pond or lake,
the heft of a fresh caught evening meal,
finding a stream for finding's sake,
or learning how the bullfrogs feel
while wade fishing on a summer day.

If I'd never hunted deer and such
the forests would not feel like home
and they'd not have felt my tread as much
as I walked through the leafy loam
while searching where the wild things stay.

December dawns of heavy frost
would melt away by me unseen
for I'd be dreaming as if lost
staring at a television's screen
while winter winds set limbs to sway.

The haunting snort of startled deer
would by me have gone unheard
and seeing one up close and near
would never, ever have occurred
had my path gone another way.

How could I tell of streams and trees
without ever having walked in them
or seen frost lift up in a hard freeze
when bobcats stalked intent and grim
in search of unsuspecting prey?

And had I never met my wife
one summer eve so long ago
how could I describe contented life
with a love which doesn't cease to grow
through long years as youth went on its way?