Wednesday, June 19, 2013
The fish like silver wishes flash
behind the rock,
a slither of a dance.
More than this dream
a fisherman’s chance
to contemplate the day.
Beyond the place of pool's cold
this poet told
of a fisherman's strong and steady hold
and what she thought to spin of gold
was a fiber pure and unafraid
made from peace and love.
So from her chair she cast
with pole and filament naught
a line of words with nimble fingers fast
across a keyboard the letters sought
to find connection in this pool vast
the fisherman's heart was caught.
A Vancouver Canuck
June 19, 2013 at 9:56 AM
Beautiful Martie, you framed that picture so well.
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