Crawdad Sale – One Penny Each
Crawdad Sale – One Penny Each – When we are young we learn lessons along the trail of life and sometimes those lessons have consequences that in our childhood wonder we could never imagine. We can only hope we learn from the mistakes that we make in our youth and can apply them later as we grow into adults. Here is one of my lessons from days long passed.
Crawdad Sale – One Penny Each
In Sheridan, Colorado three blocks north of my childhood home,
On the banks of Bear Creek my childhood spirit and memories still roam.
So long ago – Bear Creek was my little slice of paradise from back in the day,
When school was out and my summers that started at the end of May.
Never knowing most people just drove or simply just walked on by my creek,
That in those summer waters was the voyages and journeys that I would seek.
It was my ritual to spend all of the sunny daylight hours there with my friends,
Up and down the creek where the mud, river rock, and the flowing water blends.
To float a lazy day sitting on a rubber inner tube, it was the way of my youth,
With wonder and amazement always deciphering the creek as a nature sleuth.
Summer adventure began with rainbow trout, catfish, guppies, frogs, and tadpoles,
There was something about those youthful recollections that have stayed in my soul.
The creek creature that always fascinated me the most – was the ever elusive crawdad,
Leaving a mud trail as they squirted backwards and raising their pinchers when prodded.
The little boy in me saw the crawdads as the mightiest warriors and monsters of the deep,
One day in July; deciding that all crawdads that had been trapped – I would keep.
It was decided I would make my fortune on that day with a bucket full of crawdads,
Lugging the bucket home and with some cardboard and red paint – I made two ads.
Proudly displaying my artwork and ads on each side of our family house on Grove,
“Crawdad Sale – One Penny Each” hoping to add copper pennies to my treasure trove.
As that hot July summer day grew long I realized some ideas were not meant to be,
As I sat all alone with my bucket of crawdads and table under our old elm tree.
As the day moved from morning to afternoon something happened to my crawdad crop,
Looking into my metal bucket, I noticed not one, but two crawdads had floated to the top.
Both of the crawdads souls had long departed – and feeling dismayed at what I had done,
Not realizing without cool flowing creek water they would die under the hot summer sun.
With the remaining crawdads lives now with me – off to Bear Creek at a hurried trot,
Knowing I must save the lives of the crawdads that with childhood innocence I had caught.
It seemed that metal bucket had gotten larger and heavier now with so many lives to save,
Sweat beading, rolling off of me as I lugged that bucket to the creek in that July heat wave.
Looking back, knowing it was only minutes, but it seemed like several hours had passed ,
Until I stumbled down the hill without spilling a drop to the bank of Bear Creek at last.
Pouring the bucket of crawdads back into the water, hoping the crawdads could be saved,
And to my relief they seemed to squirt backwards into the cool deep water they craved.
On that hot summer afternoon I sat on the banks of Bear Creek with a tear in my eye,
Learning about how life is fleeting when my “Crawdad Sale – One Penny Each” went awry.
Kurt James
Kurt James © 2017
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The Denver Post, PM Magazine, and 9NEWS, all well-known Denver, Colorado media sources, have highlighted the powerful and evocative work of poet and novelist Kurt James. Focusing on Old West history, Kurt contributes feature articles to HubPages and Creative Exiles, exploring the eerie silence of ghost towns, the thrilling tales of outlaws and gunfighters, and the evocative imagery found in the Rocky Mountains.
Kurt’s early admiration for writers such as Jack London, Louis L’Amour, and Max Brand played a significant role in honing his skills as a storyteller. Twenty-one books (and counting!) transport readers to the Colorado Rockies and the Old West through Kurt’s vivid descriptions; the feel of rough-hewn cabins, the sounds of coyotes howling under starry skies, and the smells of campfire smoke and sagebrush are all palpable.
Find Kurt James novels, short stories, reference books, and poetry—published by Midnight Wind Publishing—in print copies or digital downloads at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads, and other excellent bookstores; explore the diverse range of formats available.
Currently in production - The 10th book in his Rocky Mountain Series - Lee Moomaw Former Lawman.
Kurt is a proud member of the Western Writers of America, a group that values storytelling.
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Such a harsh lesson for a young boy to learn. yet it is inspiring that even a youngster can realize the spiritual needs of a small creature. Great work, Kurt. Your poem is heartwarming.
Thank you Phyllis – it is the little things in life that can teach us the hard lessons if we just pay attention. Thank you for stopping by.
Your poem brought back similar memories for me Kurt. I caught Crawford at Garfield Park Lake in Denver. I love when I read some of your art and it brings back memories of childhood that were innocent and sweet. Thank you.
Thank you Marilyn for your wonderful comment and if I could trigger a memory from just one person such as yourself then my writing is well worth it. Hope all is well in your world. Kurt
Wonderful childhood memory that in many ways is similar to mine. I spent most of my childhood in a nearby bush gully, with creek and all manner of creatures. Heartwarming memories my friend.
That is way awesome Tony that you had a childhood filled with such wonders. Thanks for stopping by my friend.