Lone Fisherman

Lone Fisherman

by Fred Hobbs

A morning sea like fractured glass, silver in the first moments of a rising sun lapping softly at the crusts of a sandy beach, deserted by all but one A fisherman, a weathered face eyes straining to see the thin clear line stretching taut across a breakerless surf whistling as the soft breeze passes vanishing into a world below Beneath the surface, a beach less abandoned teaming with silent life radiant with tropical color All, like the fisherman, searching for nothing more than the morning’s sustenance A bamboo rod, tall and defiant arches now to a familiar challenge while the tattered reel screams and grudgingly releases its precious holdings to...