Catch of the Day

There is a young boy fishing

Perched at the end of the wharf

His silhouette rippling

In the easy current

Of low black water.

The evening sun,

Warm and golden

Slowly sinks

Below the hills

Dust motes catch the light

Reflecting rainbows

In the panes of beveled glass,

Thick and ancient

That make up the window

I watch through.

Nothing smells

Quite like cottage dust

In summer.

In the child I see hope.

Can picture his eyes,

Set on the bobber

Calmly floating in his reflection.

I see patience

He sits steady

Perseverance 

Resisting the urge

To trail his bare toes

Through the warm August water.

An old Ford pickup

Rumbles across the bridge

Dust and dirt mingle

A song of fathoms

As they fall from above

A dance of rippling intrusion

The boy ignores

The bobber sinks

Suddenly

In an instant he is on his feet

Line taunt

And I smile

Reminded

That things like

Patience and perseverance 

Are often rewarded

On lazy summer evenings

When we take the time

To notice.

Natasha Head