Do I like fishing?
As a boy
A hook and worm
Were tools for adventure
Pleasing my father
Who taught me rules.
One must pull their weight
Or be sent away
Dogs must defend the farm
Cats had better kill rodents
Cows will give milk
Or become dinner
These systems of value
Created from another world
Transitioned to the city
Never did fit very well.
So I relied on the moon
Or the waves of the ocean
Something repeatable,
Careless and sometimes unpredictable
Truth, I found
Is sometimes static
And sometimes
Constantly changing
Dusting off rod and line
Casting lures into the dark
Looking to catch something old
To capture a spark, a fire
I’m not a very good fisherman
And the fish know it
Better at feeding them
I suppose
I said hello to the moonrise yesterday. It was cool and the horizon burned lavender. Some things are static, others, not so much.