Night Fishing With Poppie

~ reeds jut skyward like spears in the hands of marching soldiers below, rank mud squishes underfoot we creep as near to silent as possible crossing rusted strands of barbed wire we enter private and protected ponds with ninja stealth we take position crouched in bramble we cast thin line delicately into the void slight tremors find my eager fingertips as insomniac bass feel for tasty treats slimy lips extend and inhale sucking worm and hook deep inside my father snaps his fingers twice the sound of a job well done I feel his strong hand grip my shoulder and look back to see his toothy grin shine in the moonlight /

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s-lyman-temple

American

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