I used to take a short cane pole
and head out for the creek
where tannin colored water ran
like iced tea over white soft sand.
It pooled in bends or near felled
trees in deep black holes where
With weight and hook and wiggling worm
I’d drop my line and watch the
slender bobber move along in
current like a silent periscope
until it disappeared as some finned denizen
took flight with bait in mouth
before he felt the hook and my swift tug
to bring him upward from the depths.
The future is much like the present, only longer. - Dan Quisenberry