Fishing

In the quiet dawn, by the waters still, 

Where the mist dances on the morning chill, 

A fisherman waits with patient grace, 

His heart in tune with nature's pace.

His line cast forth, a gentle arc, 

To where the river meets the dark, 

Whispers of the water's tale, 

Of secrets kept within its veil.

The rod bends with a subtle tug,

A dance begun, a bond is plugged,

Man and fish, in timeless fray, 

Each playing their ancient way.

The sun climbs high, the day grows old, 

Tales are woven, truth be told, 

In solitude, a soul finds peace, 

As moments linger and worries cease.

For in this dance of rod and line, 

Life's essence is captured, pure and fine,

A harmony of man and sea, 

In nature's vast serenity.