Angler sits on riverbank
waiting for friends to call
one has Whiskers
one a Lantern Jaw.
A line in deep waters
clouds, time stream by
for company squirrels,
a hawk in the sky.
Watching, waiting
checking Worm on hook
day flows to dusk
and shadows the brook.
Night gently falls
Angler packs up, leaves.
No fish joins the meal
wind through trees.
Shame has no place
at home without fish,
many other things
fill a dinner dish.
Not about sport
this Fisherman’s art,
hooking the Silence
that’s the best part.