Cypress branches hang solemnly
in the early morning stillness,
I feel the polar opposite,
I know the knees of the trees
hold bass and crappie
which I am here to catch.

With Texas rigged worms
and with feather-tipped jigs,
I grin with glee at the still water
and make my first cast,
waiting and salivating
with excited anticipation.

The boat glides silently,
trolling motor directed,
ultralight rod, orange and white bobber,
red and chartreuse jig ready,
wrist flick sends a ballistic arcing bait.

Landing 4 inches from the cypress knee
the bobber never stops at the surface,
sinking quickly, I lift the rod, and line runs,
reeling quickly, to prevent tangling,
I boat a sixteen-inch white crappie,
hopefully one of many.