The lifting moon casts
glimmering golden shards
across the darkened lake to where I sit
alone. I glance at the rod inserted in the hole
a prior owner has drilled in the dock.
The hooked minnow attracts. The line tautens,
relaxes, is pulled farther out, again relaxes.
"Come on, Big Fella," I urge softly.
With the inbred knowledge of Lake People, I wait.

The rod quivers, bends; the reel locks; the line sings
first straight out, then zig-zags frantically.
I haul back on the rod. Water explodes silver!
Heart pounding, I work the rippling white wake
toward the dock, scoop the net under the white belly
and lift the dripping beauty onto the dock. For a moment
I look into the unblinking eye, cut the line, and
with my foot work him to the edge. Plop!
He floats belly up, gills working; then rolling
he swims deep into the black water.



Watch these pages for more poems by Rod.
In the meantime, click the links below for
poems and stories by our other authors.

Burnt Out Match

Seasons Change

Conversation Over Morning Coffee

Winter Friends




The Purple Dark Of Night

The Mad March Hare

Empty Basket

The Rocks of Crabtree Falls

Footsteps On The Roof

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