Something special in a sunrise
with a fishing pole by your side,
when the early hour north
of the border holds such promise
for catching a big one. Back home
in Pennsylvania cars clog rush hour

on Routes 33 and 80 but here
in Canadian quiet there is only
the peace of solitude beside
clear waters. Maybe this morning
will bring the moment when a sharp
tug on the line and a bend to the pole

will signal a huge fish is wiggling
into your life here in another
country beneath the emerging
gold of the sun that knows no
boundaries glowing over
fishermen and the sparkle of streams.


This poem first appeared in Exit 13 Magazine.
Used here with permission.