Benjamin Goulet

Early Fishing

A brilliant sun inches above the trees,
flooding the lake with light.
As if the water is boiling,
thick steam rises, to block my sight.
The surface is pristine and calm,
like a sheet of paper stretched tight.
My goal is simply to land a fish,
in these early hours of daylight.
Carefully, I lift my rod,
a beauty made of graphite.
Thoughtfully, I choose my lure
and hope that it just might
catch the fish I’m looking for
that will fill me with delight.
Slowly I bring back the rod,
then rocket the lure into flight.
It lands just where I want it to
an unbeatable fish-holding site.
I only catch a glimpse,
a flash of gleaming white.
The fish hits like an atom bomb,
and we begin to fight.
He jumps and runs and whips my line
to end his dangerous plight.
Just then I hear a muffled snap,
the lonely rod springs straight upright.


Copyright 2002-2008 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2008 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.