A Fishing Holiday

by Ceryndip

Oh, to lie on the bank
And drown in the sun
Nothing in life
Could be more fun

He kicked off his boots
And wiggled toes in the sand
Dug through the dirt
And pulled a worm from the land

He baited the hook
And cast out his line
Then settled back
To wait in the sand so fine

The golden sun glinted
Reflecting in the curls on his head
The sand beneath him
provided a warm bed

His eyes closed
Against the bright glare
His soft snore signaling
The fish were safe in their lair

The pole remained still
Not even a twitch
The line bobbed quietly
As the waves tossed and pitched

The afternoon wore on
As the sun traveled west
Little disturbed the fisherman
from his peaceful rest

Occasionally he would bait
And recast his line
Outward it would sail
And plop back into the brine

As the sun set
In shades of pink
He continued to sit
While he watched it sink

He sighed deeply
Fully content
One with the universe
For that moment

He rose
And slowly made his way
Twinkling stars appeared
Signaling the end of a fine day

His hands were empty
But it mattered not
For it wasn't a fish
That he wanted caught

A little peace and quiet
Was all he desired
His soul was weary
And his body tired

It's part of what fishing
Is truely all about
It has very little
to do with trout

He breathed in the cool night air
Filled with dew
And felt as if
He had been born anew

He was ready to return
To family and friend
There was much to do
And many Gods to offend

. Ceryndip

Written in May 1998

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