Eagle on the River

 

Perched on a piling in the middle of the channel, a bald eagle commanded the river. Frankly, she seemed imperious and I liked that look.

Swallows and geese flew here and there. The river barely moved. There is something unnerving about a barely-moving river.

Two old men stood on the bank and discussed fishing. One had a line in the water and complained of inactivity, although action was all around him. Naturally, most people don’t go fishing to catch metaphors.

I decided it was a good morning to fish for metaphors so I stopped along the river and baited my hook with my love for the world and desire to serve it in some capacity. Perhaps that is a far-fetched fishing expedition for my future, and absurd bait, but I haven’t quit yet and my creative mind is keeping me alive, moving.

The eagle turned and watched me. I cast the line and it heard it splash into the water. The eagle kept watching me.

I fished away.