Rod

The sun is high. The water is clear. You stand in it, the cold feeling good against your legs. You hold the rod. It is a good rod. You cast the line. The line unspools in a long, clean arc. It lands soft on the water.

You wait.

The sun is on your neck. The water moves slow around your boots. You feel the weight of the rod. You feel the pull of the line. The line is still. The water is still. You do not move. You do not hurry.

A dragonfly lands on a reed. A small bird sings from a high branch. The shadow of a cloud passes over you. The river flows. It does not stop. You stand in the river. You do not stop. You wait.

The fish may come. The fish may not come. This is not for you to decide. This is for the river. This is for the fish. Your job is only to wait. Your job is to hold the rod steady. To feel the small movements. To be ready.

You feel the tug. It is a slow, firm tug. Not a quick one. You pull back, just a little. The line is tight. The fish is on. It is a good fish. You do not rush it. You let it run. You wait for it to tire. The lesson is in the waiting. The lesson is in the quiet. The lesson is in the line being held.

The fish is landed. It is a good fish. But you know the lesson was not the fish. It was the waiting. The sun goes down. The water is cold. You pack the rod. lesson learned.