Friday, January 21, 2011


Inspired by The Weekend Wordsmith
21 January 2011

I've never been a fan of fishing--
the smell of stink bait, or the wriggling
of worms I send to their deaths
so I can feel a moment of exhilaration
(or not)
when an unwitting catfish, trout, bass
runs scared from my hook inexorably
piercing, tearing the flesh of his cheek.

This has never been my idea of a good time,
though some revel in that moment, whether
this terrified creature is dinner,
or an unfortunate participant in a game
of catch and release.

I might be persuaded to sit lakeside,
unsuccessfully casting my line
in an unpopulated shallow, enjoying
the warmth of the sun, the cool of a beer,
the seemingly self-satisfied state
of the fish who think
they've pulled one over on the hook today,
the story telling later
about the one that got away.

George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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