With Rod, Line, and Bait

Porthcawl Harbour BW

Spending days waiting for something to bite,
Wondering whether it’s better at night;
Burning in sunshine and freezing in rain,
Always returning to do it again.

Patience, a virtue, all fishers must know,
Struggling to know just where all the fish go?
Some favour maggots and some favour worms;
Only successful on the fish’s terms.

Why do they bother to turn up each day,
Sitting about with so little to say?
Is it fraternity? Or lack of sense?
Or are they just putting on a pretence?

Wives left at home with the children in tow,
Though they are happy for husbands to go;
Each looking forward to relative peace
Giving them time for their stress to release.

When he comes home at the end of the day,
She will be watching and feeling dismay;
Knowing his basket is empty, again
He’ll catch a big one; he doesn’t know when.

Why she allows it, she never will know;
Yet, she is happy when he wants to go;
Time spent apart gives each time to reflect
So their relationship knows no neglect.

Absent in body, but never in mind,
Letting love grow into rarest of kind;
Hearts growing fonder although they’re apart
Otherwise, she’d never let him depart.

Mindfulness practice means taking control,
Settling the feelings that bother the soul.
Thus, some go fishing, with rod, line, and bait.
Clearing their minds whilst with patience they wait.

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