He waits

unlike most

and searches

through the muck

through the dirt and the dust,

the nails and worms

 

He waits 

for a glimpse of success

a meal for his minutes spent

on the water’s edge

a reward

for his tireless toil

 

He waits

as his bucket fills

alongside his hope

then empties

leaving his spirits all the same

 

For his catch does not define

his mood nor morale

nor do his profits

nor his fun

 

For, the very next cast

is all that does matter

to a Fisherman under the sun