Anglers by Frances White
Online - 19 July 2020
At crack of dawn the boys wake me
to drive them to the lake,
eager to secure their fishing peg.
Trolley loaded with rods and reels,
they head off, tousled and hopeful.
I follow the whiff of bait
through blankets of mist
under chestnut trees.
They want me to go now
leave them be,
erecting their bivy in light rain.
I scan the lake
listen for bird song.
Waterlilies still closed
a grey heron stalks the edge
watching for prey.
The peace is far too quiet,
boys’ voices the only chorus.
As morning untangles from night,
a tall shape in waterproofs
appears on the far side
fixing his line with a lurid fly
fancy as a sweet-wrapper.
I stay my distance,
rooted under willows,
waiting for more evidence of day.
© Frances White
Frances White was a Teddington resident for over 40 Years. Several volumes of her moving and accessible poetry have been published. She dies of Motor Neurone Disease in 2018,
in collection, Swiftscape, by Frances White, 2016,
The Seventh Quarry Press, ISBN, 978-0-9935326-0-3
Poem for the day: ANGLERS