He arrives every day to his spot
with his tackle and sunshading hat,
never mind that he can't tie a knot,
and no friends would be chewing the fat.
Before dawn he would wake yet again,
make his way to seclusion and calm,
his old jacket still shows where he's been-
Nicaragua and South Vietnam.
Recollections of battles still haunt,
but the lake seems to wash them away.
Being lonely is not what he'd want,
but it helps him keep nightmares at bay.
As he casts in his silent domain,
he finds angling a peaceful refrain.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.