Lone Fisherman
I stand beside the lake and cast into its murky depth
perchance to lure a fish to take a taste
but whether so, or nay, it matters not to me
for this is time of peace, and not for haste
to hear the hollow plop as lure submits to sinking,
having cast across flat water, leaden grey,
to stand relaxed and let my mind go wandering
in calm and blissful places far away.
What matter if a fish is caught or none,
for this, my time of placid reverie
beside waters still and dark, and brooding,
just the singing of the reel, the sky and me.
© Pete Stratford
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