Fishing Poem by Manonton Dalan

Sun is up, the weather is good
Wind is blowing; not that cold
Passing boat making splash
Cutting board resting on a rock

Headless shrimp bait in a pack
Squirming bloodworms in a cup
Nervous fingers bait the hook
Spit on it to spark great hope

Find ideal spot to throw
To the edges of the visible flow
Wish to catch bigger than yesterday
Swing that fishing pole and let it stray

Fishing line lands on the bay
Teasing fishes, to bite is okay
A jerk is welcome, a promise
Does sensation to your senses
Vibration from fishing pole, a struggle
To be free from a boiling kettle