This week’s #writephoto is below. Check out the rules and all of the fabulous entries by clicking on the link
The Fisherman – Image by KL Caley
Perfect fishing day
Caught them by the bucketload
Returned them unharmed
Constant casting, perfect calm
Fish are fasting, free from harm
What’s for dinner now no fish?
I’ll get thinner, oh I wish!
And the ugly
He’d fished here for years, first as a boy with his Dad, then as a youth while others were chasing girls, now as a man, alone.
It was a perfect pastime.
He loved to cast and dream, to snooze and remember, to breathe the fresh air, occasionally to catch a fish. He loved the solitude, the perfect reflections that rippled every time he cast, or drew in his line. He even loved it when it rained and the fish rose to the surface, seeming to delight in the shower.
He thought of it more as feeding the fish, rather than a battle of wills to lure them on to his hook.
Over the years he’d fed them worms, grubs, and all sorts of ground bait, but the best days fishing was surely the day he’d fed them his wife!