Quaker Lake, Ny

Lightening bugs flash, like the worn celluloid images of old movies, I sit beneath a great Greta Garbo moon. I am the heroine of this short. The dew point drops, Mists rise. Crickets chirp. Muskwats buzz. Loons ululate and wail. My dialogue, The click and whir of my spinning reel. The glug-glug-glug of the Hula Popper lure. To prepare for the climax, Bring out the proven method acting. I taste the dirt on my fingers, Licking and twisting monofilament. The savory sign of night-crawler trails. Add the bobber, the weight. I smell the algae and rotting leaves. The sweet stew of the lake. My nose tingles from the life motes it captures. I cast. This night, I ad-lib. There never was a script, No stupid fish. Fade to Me, The Garbo moon, Clever fish, Loon interlude.