Off the coast of
Florida, my son chased
marlin, tuna, and grouper
like he was born with a
rod in his hand.  The cooler
filled with his victories.  The
sun rose, crested, and waned.

A bite!

The line screams off the
reel.  Digging in, one
hard crank.  Another.
The line runs.  He reels harder.
Water churns, a battle on the
food chain.

The line goes slack.

He’s lost.  Reeling in the
lure, he learns – not a loss.
A shared victory.  Two thirds of a
tuna for him, the fish
tail to a shark.

© Hilary Clark ~ August 5, 2020

My poems are inspired by my art.  See the piece that inspired this poem here.