The Catch

Object: Fishing rod

Body of Water: Gateway National Park

Hark the call of the wild
Is it not something mild?
Not at all says I, readying the lure
Dawn breaks on the marina.


I fasten my rod in on my belt
That way I won't be dealt
with the thrashing and violence that will soon follow
of the infinite struggle
Man vs sea on a smaller scale.

My peers dot the docks
A mish mash of baseball caps, sunglasses and tube-socks
A light murmur rises from the crowd
All of them belying their own catches of the day.

A twist and an arch I let my cast fly
Glimmers of the hook shining in the cereulean sky.
"plop" goes the hook with a pink bait
sinking under the indigo water

Minutes pass, not a tug to be had
with a sigh I feel not one bit mad
I pop open my drink, a light beer
Morning slowly turns to noon

Hours pass, still no catch
Surely my foe has not turned down a match
A battle of wills, both human and primal
Even after one bite, my prey will be even more difficult to snatch
Is it worth the burn of the sun and parched throat.

As my thoughts wander, something pulls.
Pulling stronger and stronger out of my idyllic lulls
A Catch! A Catch of the day!
I reel him to the best of my abilities
A 10 minute struggle that feels like hours

At last I caught him, what a sight to see
A 5 foot bass, how could it be
None of my friends have caught such a fiend.
The fish writhes all along the deck as hold til the death rattle finally comes to a close

My day is made, I've had my catch
All in a day's work, it seemed 'natch
My prize in my cooler, we drive away
Grinning in my car from ear to ear.