I stand as the black water
Of each wave’s backwash
Hugs my hip boots
Making little stars of light
As the water “fires” around by legs.
Arching my back
I let out cast after cast
Thumbing the reel carefully
As it whips that old blue Atom plug
Past my ear and out into
The fish-filled night.
Early on I was hoping for a strike
Of some huge striped bass to fight,
But now, to hell with fishing,
I would rather stand here casting.
I have already caught my prize.
It is the sea-filled night.
— Conrad Neumann