|
Darkness
When the worm
dangled from a hook
Sees nothing but mouth coming,
full open wide,
And teeth poised for stabbing,
death ahead implied,
But then just before the
gnashing,
all goes black inside.
Silence
When the fisherman
standing on the shore
Waits for his line deep
sinking,
no hurry in mind,
With 'will the hook set'
thinking,
hope tied to blind,
Will the catch start fighting,
or another supper to find?
Brightness
When on the third day
of his third and final try,
Pro
Christie finally knew winning,
finally broke through,
Not a single fish caught
sparing,
a Bassmaster true,
A trophy the victor's now
hoisting,
a shining so due. |
