Gone Fishin’

By Andrew R. Duckworth

The water is still.
I’ve been here quite often
With Dad, who is no longer here
But is here, is always here,
Will always be at this lake,
This man-made lake.
I hated fishing.
I was the kind that
Casted the line and expected
Something to happen shortly.
But that’s not the way it works.
That’s not the way anything works,
Or should work.
Dad is out here, at my side,
Helping me visualize, stepping me
Through a past that is still
As present as it was
Years ago.
Everything takes time,
That’s what he would say now,
That’s what he said then.
I’m not fishing now,
Not for fish.
I still hate fishing.
I’m staring at a lake alive
With fish that require patience,
Whatever fish may be.