FISHING, first draft
I have no idea how, down at 35.5 feet of murky
dark Pueblo Reservoir water, the walleye pike see
Bob said they smell, and will hit the dark brown leech
wiggling for its life, hooked onto my fishing line.
But they do, and the rod tip dips and rises, dips and rises
and you give a tug and set the hook and the line of
power rises to your arms and hands and the rod bows
and you reel in, slowly Bob says, and he gets the net.
You reel the line to bring the fish to the surface and it splashes
water and swirls and tugs harder, fighting for its life
and Bob lifts it out of the water and removes the hook
and we lay it on the measuring trough, lip to tail, 17.5 inches.
Half an inch too short for death and dinner. Quickly, Bob tosses
it overboard and it plunges in, disappears into the murky water.
Who needs to keep anything when you are
window shopping with a fishing pole. I am happy.