........Fishing Is Grand Freedom Poem by elysabeth faslund

The Fisher.
Cold pre-dawn. Coffeed
Out his house. Feed dogs,
'I'll be back, hush. Sleep.'

The Fisher.
Ready. Boat down ramp.
Water freedom. Free.
Summons answered.

What questions go unanswered, Fisher?
Fisher...ask.
This one day...ask.

The Fisher.
Favorite spot. Fast
Out-going currents.
Three in his ice chest.
Good Day!

Seventh cast. No fish jumping now.

What reason, Fisher?
Ask. This one day...ask.
Go home. Go home, Fisher.

'Snagged a log! Damn hurricane! '
Trolled into currents. Reached.
Nothing. Nothing.
Hard jerk on line...hook set.

Over. Over the side.
Home disappeared.
Water. The Fisher
Became his freedom.

What was below your freedom, Fisher?
Below the water...
What...