Fishing

Below the surface it comes closer
To turn away and flee
Or take the bait and bite.
Watch, waiting for the decision
Hopeful, fingers crossed
This could be the first bite.
Hours of waiting pay off
Finally it follows closer and bites.
Reel in quickly, it struggles
To free itself, and wins
Slips away, another lost
The next will struggle too
Plucked from the water
Finally escaping from hands
Struggling to keep hold
Few and far between
Those that don’t slip away
Become more precious
A meal worth the waiting

A poet understands the patience
Of the fisherman on a lake
Thoughts and ideas
Swim closer to the surface
Or disappear forever
Too often like the fish
Thoughts turn away from
Poems offered as bait
Before words can grasp them
Or slip away just as the poet
Puts pen to the paper
Then, after waiting long
Instead of tantalizing minds
Before wondering away,
One brilliant idea
Stays to become precious
In the hands of the poet
As the fish becomes a meal
The thought becomes a poem.