Gone Fishing

Gone Fishing

At dawn’s first light,

with the waters still,

I cast my line;

the world grows still.

The ripples dance

where silence reigns,

A quiet balm for life’s refrains.

The lake reflects a gentle ripple,

A mirror of sky, so calm, so true.

The rod bends low, a tug, a fight,

A moment of joy in the morning light.

No rush, no clock, just time to spare,

The hum of nature fills the air.

The fish may come, or they may hide,

peace is caught on every tide.

Gone fishing—not just for the day,

But to drift where troubles melt away.