A thousand ghostly serpents stretch
pale heads above the lake,
warning the rising white wavering
Fearless a grey shell among them slips.
Shadowed pilot lets oars drift
launches a silent line;
a soft plop; the figure waits
A starling squawks, the only sound
to pierce the peaceful air.
The figure lifts his arm once more
another plop, and rippling rings
Then a splash, the rod bends down
the snake heads veer away
as water churns and figure turns
Net dips down,
brings silvery prize
The figure bends to take the oars
and glides ahead once more.
And baits the hook
while silence reigns
(This is a poem I started on 10July2007, and finished revising on 12July2007)
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