Poem #5 -- Fishing

I am standing in the river,

the current gentle against my legs.

My feet are cool in my boots

in my waders

in the water.

My head is warm in my cap

in the sun.

I have finally cast my line

with grace

and precision

and the fish believes

an insect has landed 

in the water

above its head.

The line goes tight.

I bring the fish to me,

remove the hook,

apologize,

marvel at the iridescent beauty,

kiss its nose,

and release the fish back into the river.

Then I open my eyes

and pick up the next paper to grade.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2011