Wetting a line

James stood musing. The soft slap of the water near his feet relaxed him by its hypnotic repetition.

His gaze scanned the water.

Nothing.

A pelican glided silently from behind the trees and shushed to a stop midstream. James let his mind drift. No use in concentrating on the fishing.

Nothing biting.

He propped the rod up in the soft sand. Moving his chair to the water’s edge he dabbled his feet in the water.
‘Funny how they call it fishing,’ he snorted aloud. ‘I’m merely wetting a line. Haven’t caught a thing all morning.’

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Copyright 2007 Trevor W. Hampel.

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Updated September 2015.