The Fisherman

The man gazes at the water,
fishline and hook.
There is perfect pitch in the line.
The single note of a song,
a concerto of intensity.
Is the fishing good?
The answer rises and falls
like the beat of a huge heart.
Time is coming for the bait.
A string of light looking for its darkness.
Silence looking for its sound.
The ache of the soul
looking for its peace.
The fishing is good.
Something nibbles
at the world’s loneliness,
looking for the fisherman.