In the woods a friend was fishing
line was quiet, had no bait
question in my mind was rising
when it rose, he answered Wait

In the stream a fish was rising
sun got lower, hour was late
no nibble at the angling
when it sank, he answered Wait

Wanted to ask about the sun
my eyes and both my hands
sun in my eyes, sun in my hands
and the earth with all its seasons

Wanted to ask about the moon
my mouth down to my feet
under the moon, where we go and where we stand
and the heart with all its reasons

What to ask slipped through my hands
like water in the river
it flowed back through the trees and hills
far away and forever, ever

I saw his line without a hook
no hook in this line either
stood over fish and I understood
to stay with him for dinner, dinner

In the woods a friend was fishing
my old friend I came upon
when deep night came upon us
what to ask had been and gone

In the woods a friend was fishing
line was quiet, had no bait
question in my mind was rising
when it rose, he answered Wait

Copyright © 2000 Tom Ross