Image courtesy of Solitude Lake Management

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The Pond

:

Writing is like fishing
in that silt-choked pond

behind your grandfather’s
farm, where you knew

you were unlikely to catch
anything, since there were no

fish left, only frogs, and maybe
the occasional cottonmouth,

which wasn’t something
you hoped to reel in,

and yet, here you go again,
stubbornly, religiously even,

canvas chair in one hand,
fishing rod in the other.

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First published by One Sentence Poems in August 2018.