Manitoba Fishing 6/8/2012
the lake at morning: wispy crispness
with bits of fog and boats floating
by docks filling with fishers sans fishes
into the universe the boating
scatters lakeward like july fire
popping like engines gleaming and croaking
soon the tap and plink of line and wire
on water, whoops and hoots echo boat to boat
over water ruffled over mud and mire
five feet above the bed we nod and float
beneath us silent phantoms whir and bend
that whispers of their winding in the ripples wrote
amid the mists we see ghosts like real men
winding wisps as if reeling real, lines refurled
their sound shattered by the silence and
we: a point still whirling in a stilled world
and all else seems thinning and leavening
and our driven purpose seems round us curled
But the cosmos seeps in, envisioning
the rod rocking rhythm as a breath unfurling
and the stillness, the stillness is deafening.