Author William Robert Rodgers Punting pole stuck in the reeds, he ties up his boat. Late at night, the moon climbs to the top of the pole. The old fisherman is dead drunk — call him, he won't wake up! — In the morning he rises, frost-prints on the shadow of his raincoat. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments