My friends and I decide each year
To travel to some distant wood
Where we can fish in waters clear
And leave behind those petty fears
That we contend with most of time.
The sun was bright when we arrived;
We ambled down to water’s edge
To see the scene and claim a boat,
Expectant with our fervent hope
Of an ample catch for next year’s boasts.
The pleasant smell of summer pine
Was carried by a wafting breeze,
While rippling waves create the beat
To mark the call of forest song.
A red eyed loon went swimming by
Calling to its missing mate,
While blinding sun and dark green trees
Reflected off the placid lake.
To start one needs to tie a line
And weight it with a piece of lead
And then, in rite as old as man,
A worm to deadly point is wed.
Fishing’s not quite paradise
Since things are lost as well as gained,
Disappointments mixed with bliss,
Pleasure often merged with pain.
For to catch a fish is not just joy
Though to feel it strike against one’s line
Is thrilling as the primal time,
When Adam, in the Garden Grove,
Stole the fruit of sacred trees
In breathless swoon of brand new life
From under newly risen sun-
With birdsong sung and owl call heard-
Love and death all dressed as one.
When all is set for us to go
I cast my line at worlds unseen
And watch the weighted hook explode.
To panic all the fish below.
A luckless fish consumes my bait.
And discovers that his death might be
The price that he might have to pay
For stealing food away from me.
Swimming hard he tries to break
The line that holds him tight,
And attempts to shake the hidden snare
That binds his life to fate.
I slowly reel him toward my net,
Lacking pity and remorse,
When he with one last desperate try,
Breaches heaven’s narrow gate
With one great leap to find
His freedom in the sky.
And there’s the reason of it all
Of why each year I go to find
Some peace away from home.
For as I see his leap into the sky,
Fighting to be free of snare and lie,
Trying to transcend the chain that binds,
I know that he and I are one in G‑d,
Together and untamed.