There is a deep calm
\nbetween the boat and pier.
\nThe water moves like oily glass,
\none of those Victorian vases
\nwith milky flowers.
\nIt is a weightless place full of heartbeats.
\nTime has the quality of jelly,
\nelastic,
\nsuspended in its eternal mystery.<\/p>\n
The day is a bubble ready to burst with light.
\nThe algae on the pier is a dark green,
\na shawl thrown on the planks
\nno higher than the swells,
\nand I feel the sticky fingers
\nof a dream,
\ndenied its shelter of sleep.
\nI yawn and stretch my arms,
\na sleepy man gone fishing at 6:00 a.m.,
\nwhen the fish bite,
\nwhen the bay is silver with fog,
\nand the smell of bait excites a rapture.<\/p>\n
I feel the tension of the pole
\nas I cast a line,
\nand the water takes hold,
\nand I fish where time has cast me.
\nWherever in my restless longings
\nI have gone,
\nin whatever joy or grief I find myself.
\nA breeze,
\na voyage,
\na calm granted when I go fishing,
\nand catch something bigger
\nthan all the horizons in the world.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There is a deep calm between the boat and pier. The water moves like oily glass, one of those Victorian vases with milky flowers. It…<\/p>\n