I do not want to be a fishing float
adrift on the waters of existence,
allowing myself to accept stagnation,
bobbing ever buoyant to
the ebb and flow of the mundane.
Reel me in and cast me again into living waters.
Wash away doubts and anxiety —
the fears that snag my line, my vexation.
Give me peaceful rest in fresh water
that is replenished by Your rain.

One of those days, gone fishing,
Tripped the fish fantastic, gone missing,
So, off to the take-away we hopped,
Got boxed in at the pizza shop,
Fair dinkum, this is *******,
We're supposed to b eating fresh fish!

Its in these waters, when I was merely a Parr
Or as you might refer to me as a fry,
This wise but young Brook Trout cruised the slow water with my kinfolk fry.

Moving to and fro hiding among the biome vegetation
The sunlight supported my living space and warmed my growth rings.
I dart in and out of the oxygenated seams which help me flourish.

Some days, I had to use stealth to outwit the pine marten and warblers,
I shadowed the cattail and watched them fill their bellies with those around me.
But I felt fate had a purpose for me to be something special.

And When the time was right, I'd propel myself above the water into the night air.
The large circle of orange light filled my eyes and the night sky was filled with luminary.
I imagined what it must be like to live outside this riffle domain.

This morning, through my refractory vision I spot some floating objects,
And through an inherited sensory recall I can see these are hatching green Drakes.
I immediately shoot to the surface and fill my stomach, then swim back to the undercut for cover.

As the years pass by and maturity abounds,  I find my self settling in behind a large boulder
Right at the tail out of the back eddy, providing me with an ample food supply.
And it's here I prefer to live my life in the slow current, content and peaceful.

And one day as I swam into the current seam, I spotted what appeared to be,
A different looking bug with yellow belly,  so I make my move.
He's not moving much so I decide to raise my head above the water line and sip.

As I grab the hopper I start to slide back behind the boulder,
When I feel a pinch, as if someone try's to pull me towards the surface
I fight with all my might but this force proves to be stronger than I.

It's now I realize a human reels me towards the shore line, and I'm fearful.
This one called a human, grabs my tail and places his hand on my under belly.
Pulling me from my home, he dislodges the hook from my mouth. I gasp for oxygen.

He looks me over from nose to tail, smiles and says how beautiful I am.
He looks me in the eye And says " This was a wonderful fight my friend, enjoy the rest of your life,
He places me back in water, gently reviving me and finally lets me swim away.

I dare to turn and look back at him for a moment and as he continues to watch me,
I hear him say " I fish, knowing everyday on this stream is a gift."

midnight, floodlights
purse seiners packed in tight
anchored on the fragile shoal
shadows play on the white wall
dune grass, needle, leaf of tree
gallows rising from the sea
back and forth the tenders run
salmon gathered one by one
                                      
                                 the struggle and the toil
                                                                      
                                                         the silver flashing fins
                                                                                          
                                                                            leaping from the net

                                                                                            slipping back within

I cast a line out
                              I
                             ­  N
                                 T
                                  O
                           ­           T
                                       H
                                         E
                                             sw-
                                         ell
                                  -ing
                               waters
Fishing for a thought better than the one I have waiting in the depths, floating on a stick with noodles attached, courageous in effort as the light has long since gone out,
The
      Line
             Sinks
As the buoyancy effects my dreams, My Fingers curl around the pole sensing what could happen if I let go, Still Fighting with myself arguing my existence in this empty air,
      A
         Nibble
    Or
      A
   Bite
Might change the world or could end it, I am starving for a thought new as my balance is lost and the waters envelope me
Eying               the surface I see               the water     is       clear reflecting   upon   itself
  My                 body passes the               hook
Suspended by a floating rod, I turn from my life line and spread my arms hoping to slow my Faith, No thoughts come to mind,
Something
                   Is
                      Waiting
                                ­    At
                                        The
              ­                                Bottom
It's eyes locking onto mine, a smile welcoming me to lay she makes no effort to move or catch me, we seen in sync as I float over her

We embrace,

This is the thought I was wishing for? A hushed lip meets mine, our first breath in a space where I thought it wasn't possible,
Are we rising or are the waters disappearing as I catch a wink of my hook and rod, my hands press believing that this is real as I feel yours on my back,
There is so much more, the possibilities are endless, are goals may differ, but we are flying and nothing will stop us from floating among all the thoughts we once belonged to be below us.

Midnight, stars twinkle
mosquitos buzz
the sound of flowing water
an occasional splash

A bull frog croaks out a beat
and the tree frogs sing harmony
the owl lead sings from the trees
and the cicada sings backup

My black light illuminates
the night purple
as flying insects glow
as does the crawling scorpion

Monofilament fishing line
creates purple lines
running into the water
like lasers fired

Watching and waiting
on the riverbank
for the line to quiver
and the rod to bend

Night crawlers squirm
in their styrofoam bowl
waiting their turn
to search for catfish

Into the depths she glides
Natures killing machine
Muscles and teeth
The great white
Looks up at the surface

Waiting, waiting
For a seal to silhouette
In the sun
Suddenly with a thrusting tail
Heads to the surface like a torpedo

Collision course
Seal impact
Teeth gnash
Blood runs
Lunch is served

Melting snow creates a stream
running down the mountainside
like a vivid night of dreams
ending in the foaming tide

Valley lake full of trout
top of water, insects float
on the edges cattails sprout
not sufficiently deep  for a boat

Cold clear water in I wade
casting my fly to the shore
I spy motion in the shade
stripping back cast once more

The fly hits the cattails base
a swirl and a flash below
moving fly, trout gives chase
incoming, stripping slow

Trout is caught and in my creel
wade back to the lakes edge
in the truck behind the wheel
driving home on mountains edge