956. the pleasure of it all

the fisherman

leisurely casting his rod,

blowing smoke

Yesterday, I glimpsed a fisherman wading in the middle of the creek, both arms working, his rod in one hand and net in the other….and then I saw the silver fish in the net and before I could get my camera out, he tossed the fish back into the water. Darn!

I kept on walking, and on my way back there he was again in a different spot, leisurely lifting his rod and casting over to the left, watching his line drifting lazily to the right with the slow steady current of the creek. He did this again and again as my eyes followed, hoping for another fish. I was in the flow—the slow, steady movement of the water, the fishing rod, his arm and his head—and then a puff of smoke drifting. drifting away. I never did see another fish. I don’t know if he caught another fish or even if he cared….maybe he was just out there for the pleasure of it all.