In My Fishing Net Poem by August W. Landing
In My Fishing Net
And when I go dig deep the past,
I find the fair face I saw first.
And then another,
And another:
To now at last.
I fumble glows I lit and left,
And cast again my sieving net.
In my sieving net before,
I cought less the ones i wished,
And the ones I wished not more.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: fishing
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8/29/2026 5:59:38 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
