Angling (Poem)

Angling

A man reaches,
always hoping;

with practice
follows the line

of prayer
breaking the early hour,

the mechanical repetition
of arcing and flattening

words almost a rhythm.
Strip the energy

feeding on inner noise
and stones  turn over,

shake grace loose
and throw light back.

God's wooed to the surface
in a drawl of shallow breath,

and the emptying
that comes

from a history of cares
run to bottom

evades a new day's taunt
to raise arm and hand

against a hide-and-seek sun.

© 2014 Maureen E. Doallas
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This poem was inspired by Seth Haine's post, "Fly Fishing Artist Date".