Where are my words? Do they stir in some unknown lake, far beyond the landing where I stand? Why do they rest in the murky waters holding their breath, when I long to catch them? What bait would tease them to bite? I have strung my line with walks along the water edge, midnight reflections of tossing and turning, and deep conversations that lead downstream splashing the surface yet not flooding my appetite. Have you ever had a thought or feeling jump around in you, like a fish on a line, though impossible to pull up without it tearing loose ? Maybe I need to jump on a boat and set sails to the deep sea, or at least skinny dip in the silver lining of the moon! The fish are running and my nets are coming up with seaweed, and not the pearls I long to touch!
Photo: Clear Lake California, with an abandon dock.