Bass Fishing At Squibnocket

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

This article appears in August 15, 2014.