The Perils and Pleasures of Leaving the Rod Behind

What started out as an ill-fated squirrel hunt ended up with me reclining on a lake shore, journaling and writing poetry. I was perturbed that I did not throw my rod in the truck before I left. Yet, after a while sitting under the shade of a huge cottonwood I appreciated the opportunity to just exist. Nonetheless, I will be returning with fish on my mind sometime in the near future. That's the wonderful thing about exploring--your discoveries are always able to be revisited (whether physically or through reminiscence). I'm not actually sure how long I spent at that spot (several hours?) but it was enjoyable. Included below are snapshots from today and a short poem composed on virgin ground.

Tenkara

Deer hair snowflake
Drifting down
Amidst the dancing cottonwood seeds
An infant's kiss (From Heaven: テンカラ)
Upon the water

One gyration
One frantic twitch
An inky shadow
Menacing, imposing
Drags the charlatan beneath the olive plain

Then pandemonium
Predator now prey
Two hunters
Connected by tapered braid
Two worlds apart