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Fishing Dream

A curve in the air describes the line
cast from the green bank of my dream
it hangs, arc drifting in angling’s lazy mist
cork bobbing sweet, like stems plucked beside the stream


From the window of my memory I watch him
cast and cast again, unconcerned as a fly on the sill
those were school holidays and my youth pimple thin
loner then as now, dipping in the brook of nature’s thrill


Life was a verdant mystery, flowing then as now
from some unseen source, melting snow, subterranean spring,
and I just a cork bobbing, waiting to be tugged in water’s flow
now autumn showers splashing panes fishing dreams still bring


A duck watches my lure swim its track then go under
I pull, quick joy, and flashing silver droplets net nature’s wonder

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© Johnmichael Simon



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