River Dart in Autumn
I found this beautiful poem recently for a dedicated Fisherman who loved the River Dart.
Requiem For a Fisherman
A quiet troll across the lake
Its surface still and mirrored
The moisture in the air so thick
As morning sun appears
The line is whipped with deft finesse
It sails with graceful ease
Near reeds exposed, and tangled roots
Just missing willowed trees
The first bite starts the tingled thrill
All time is stopped in place
No sound or movement, not a breath
This single-focused face
A stronger tug, the pole is flicked
The hook so cleanly set
The game goes on with line kept tight
The prize steered toward the net
The feeling of accomplishment
It saturates your soul
Where skill and silent patience
Are the answer to the goal
You may not get another bite
For hours through the day
But Nature’s sweet serenity
Is often why you stay
There comes that day for all the best
The fishing’s done at last
The final time you tie a hook
The final spinning cast
But Lord, we hope a lake exists
In Heaven’s grand design
Where once again you’ll feel the thrill
Of casting out your line
Jeff Wright
