Sense Sonnet - Pumper

Northern Pike

Each year in spring I make the trip,
Going out of Lake Michigan,
And all across Green Bay I slip,
To get my purpose in life done.
From the Bay into a small ditch,
A red tailed hawk tries to grab me,
But I elude in a quick pitch,
But talon marks on me there be.
With too low water, I get stuck.
Into a net my bod does swing,
Catch a ride in a pick up truck,
And then let loose to do my thing.

That's what my spawning urge is like,
In the life of this Northern pike.