What Do I Know?

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.