Miss Manners is strangely quiet
on the topic of fishing; she sits
in meditation on the point
where necessity goes
to the highest bidder.

All Life is sacred, her granny
taught; so the fish is sacred
as is the worm, as is her own
belly, engine house of her soul.
How to honour all this?

One must eat, Miss Manners
has no quibble with that, it’s
dead simple. If one must
eat, one must also consent
to be eaten in turn, and ease
her shoulders against mortality.

Miss Manners stays quiet, but
now it is the angler’s poise.

She casts her line fluidly
hip deep in perfection of flow
alight with love of worm, of fish
of her own belly, engine house
to her soul, now trued
in the ever-spinning wheel of Life.

*Miss Manners is strangely quiet on the topic of fishing is a line from another Day 16 pome, by Ellen Kartz, one of my colleagues in Stroll of Poets 30x30Poetry challenge this year, and a long-time elegant fellow-traveler on the poetry road.

Image, as so often, is from Pixabay.com creative commons image site, this time courtesy of DrawsandCooks.