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.


6 responses to “GONE FISHING

  1. David A Wilkinson

    An especially fine poem, John. Thanks.


    Sent from my iPhone


    Liked by 1 person

  2. “This is fishing.

    This is poetry.

    This is solace.”
    This is beauty.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Thanks for checking in!


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