Friday, August 19, 2011
Fishing At Jason's Lake
Journey to Jason’s Lake
We drove down narrow dirt roads, where sun-drops
Splashed through the moss-draped arms of live oaks
To welcome us.
And fields of seasoned sunflowers lowered
Their weighted hooked heads, as if to
We turned past tall patient bricks,
A fire hearth that long ago had cast itself,
Strong and sure into the reels of time.
And we waded through wisps of luring laughter
That taunted us to try our luck
As young ghosts of SeaCloud1 once had.
When the car fished its way, jumping and wriggling
Over the old footbridge, I imagined how other bare feet
Had once sauntered over these wooden planks,With cane poles bobbing and lines dancing in the wind.
But now, it’s your turn to stand near the lakes edge,
A lanky lad of fourteen years, silhouetted
By the drag of a still, summer day.
Your image hung against the southern sky
Framed by marsh-grass and Egret’s flight
While tidewaters turn at your feet.
It’s your tale. Two young friends
Floundering with snarled lines
Stolen bait, and gnats that buzz your resolve.
It’s your time. With your line cast and your tip low
The strike comes.
Then with a flash of scales, it wakes the water.
Now you jerk to set the hook, and your stance stiffens
As you fight the unknown "monster of the deep."
Soon I hear you call out, “I got one!”
I watch and join in the excitement of the catch.
You pull and turn this way and that, unsure
Until you arch your back and try once more.
Silently I savor the moment and I pray
That each time you cast, you will wrap yourself
six times around and back through
Until your knot secure's itself
Around the lake’s rain-dance,
Around the Heron's flight,
And around the joy that hooked us all
As we tried our luck rigging and jigging
On Jason’s Lake.
Linda Conkey Shaw August 18, 2011