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Thursday, July 25, 2024

The Angler (Paul Klee), Sonnet #625



















Two worlds, water and air, wishing

And being, each unknown to each.

There’s no secret to fine fishing.

A boat is as good as a beach.

(The river is like a long book

Whose beginning sentence recedes.)

Please, allow no barb on the hook.

You’ll find trout hiding in the reeds,

Or flimmering in rapids, still

Above a bed of sand and stone.

Angling is no matter of skill.

It is for the fish alone

To consider and to chose.

Once hooked it’s yours to land or lose.



 

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