I offer this poem for all of you who have ever fished for fish, or ever knew someone who did.
It is "Fishing" by Sarah Rossiter, reprinted from The Anglican Theological Review, Summer 2006, Volume 88, Number 3, page 419 (used by permission of the managing editor).
Who can explain what holds me
at the river's edge: is it the scent
of water, or the sound of liquid slipping over stone,
or, then again, the line unfurling
back and forth through whispered air,
like breath, perhaps, or maybe prayer,
or the White Wulff, light as milkweed,
drifting, or that moment when
the salmon leaps, such silver shining,
fish, fly, sky, as if the river catches fire.
And so I wonder how it was that when
He met them by the sea, and all He said
was "Follow me," they turned, it seemed,
with no regret, leaving boats and nets
behind, as if He was the fish they sought,
as if their hearts burned even then.
The Rev. Linda McCloud
The Episcopal Church of Our Savior at Honey Creek