Poetry is its own prayer,
The closest words come to will.
– Amanda Gorman (“CORDAGE, or ATONEMENT”)
To untangle a knot of fishing line
you must begin with the hook—
work reason gently backwards.
Don’t pull tight but take a breath,
give time away and listen
to the words that swim by.
Free the mind to find itself
not coifed in sheep’s clothing
but wild as a wolf in the woods.
Watch the water riffle and eddy.
See rocks and cobbles talking
from an ever-changing streambed.
This is fishing.
This is poetry.
This is solace.
drycrikjournal 
An especially fine poem, John. Thanks.
Andy
Sent from my iPhone
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Thanks, my friend, how have you been? Email me when you get a chance.
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“This is fishing.
This is poetry.
This is solace.”
This is beauty.
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Thanks, Richard!
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Keep on casting, John. You’ve been reeling in some doozies lately. One can barely imagine the ones that got away. Thanks for keeping after them, sleepless though the work may be. It’s too hot to sleep anyway most nights these days, as we might put it.
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Thanks for checking in!
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