Hook, Line and Sinker



He used to cast his words indifferently,

random forays into random pools in

hopes of a nibble. Now, he selects

his bait with care – a metaphorical

jig, an alliterative spoon, a methodically

tied fly well-placed into the heart of

the brook. There, he sets the hook

with practised hand, reeling in

a string of gleaming tales

to recount at tomorrow’s camp-fire.



To Catch the Sun

To catch the sun, you lay a trap

of steel in dark of deadly night.

 Add some bait, perhaps a scrap

of lightning from a stormy flight;

as she mounts horizon’s hill,

the sun will spy allurement there,

cunningly, of her free will,

she’ll glow with joy and trip the snare.