Notes About The Poem
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THE JOY OF FISHING
THE JOY OF FISHING
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Rods in hand, fisherman stand,
the weight of the world drifting away,
each cast—a gentle surrender,
their lines dancing over glassy reflections.
Dragonflies flit, their wings catching fire,
their laughter carries on the warm breeze,
echoing in the space where time softens,
and worries drift like clouds above.
Oh, the thrill of the tug,
the sudden pulse beneath the surface,
every nibble a promise,
every catch—a moment suspended.
stars emerge, shy and trembling,
the fishermen reel in not just the fish,
but memories woven into the fabric of night;
they pause, lost in the joy of fishing
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