Fishing

As the mercury begins its annual retreat

the angler keeps a watch

the winter water, dark and cold

as silvery sources flicker

Hot air turning to almost fog

as chair it rests on sawn up logs

and line it sits, still, with great aplomb

as angler watches for a flicker

The float bobs away

in the ice cold soup

slight winds make it bob and loop

but not yet beyond its line it stoops

Ripples in water – give something away

as down in the depths – something does play

so sat angler waits – and beef tea he does pour

whilst listening to sports news on Radio four

But then there’s some action – could that be a Pike ?

the float swings round wildly – It’s the chain off a bike

and bubbles arising ? – the laughter of the fish

who’ve stopping being put on the wall or a dish