When Worlds Collide
The command “suspend your imagination” was never better used than when sitting in a small fishing boat in the middle of a cool morning breeze, watching the sun creep slowly over the tree tops. It is warm out here, yet not warm - the northern chill which hibernates during these summer months sometimes yawns and sends a refreshing breath over the faces of hopeful fishermen - like yours truly.
What is it that makes us sit patiently on an old vinyl cushion, leaning over a slender pole, watching the tiny ripple undulating in the black water, waiting…waiting for a frightening creature from another world to find our false offering of sustenance and grab it like a Parisian pickpocket? Those goggle-eyed denizens of the murky deep who do take the bait find themselves jerked out of their world faster than a rocket trip to Mars as shown on the late, late show.
Now, two singular citizens of nature find themselves staring incredulously at each other. As I awkwardly grasp the giant lower lip of the bass, I marvel at the beauty of this sleek racing body. What a blessing it is to be able to see such a wonder, hidden from us under the marble surface that flows in all directions, yet conceals its treasures from those who use gaseous oxygen to survive.
I unhook this pulsating pound of muscle and send it back to the world where it soars - a mirror image of the feathered glider that circles lazily over my head, its eyes focused on the twinkling water below.
