The Fisherman

Julie Blackman

Julie Blackman

On the river
among deep coulees
we turn the motor off
Let the boat drift down`
stream to find its course
Let the currents take us
where`ever when`ever
they will in a silence
soft & sweet

In their racks
the rods are stowed
hooks & sinkers stored
It’s past the fishing hour
time to ponder the hooks
set deep in our own jaws
by the One who loves us
on a line unbreakable
knotted secure

He lets us run
if we have the will
Lets out line unlimited
till worn`out by running
we stop Lie still as stones
hen he starts his reeling
gently kindly patiently
When we run again
He lets us run

“Quiet. The river flows soundlessly by
at the speed of its own long time.” ~ Wendell Berry


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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10 Responses to The Fisherman

  1. Cheryl Ruffing says:

    An absolutely beautiful metaphor, Peter.


  2. Anita Lubesh says:

    Beautiful and a rippling form shape to boot. Very nice.


  3. Oh my God, what love!


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