the lake was calm but alive
beneath the rippling surface of time
mr. rutter’s boat swayed gently near
the causeway bridge stood watch above
small crabs gave themselves away
split in half by papa’s hands
their soft insides promising a catch
every toss of the line held hope
i don’t remember the count of fish
only the rhythm of bait and wait
the sound of his voice steadying
like the hum of water’s embrace
redfish danced beneath our feet
their silver bodies secrets unseen
but my heart foresaw no lack
the ice chest grew heavy, not my mind
it wasn’t the weight of the fish
but the care of his weathered hands
splitting crabs, baiting hooks for me
that anchored me to endless peace