Fishermen are a different group. Nothing bothers them. They can stand by a stream or sit in a boat all day. The preference is to catch a fish or two but hey, just fishing makes time whittle away. Here is one of my favorite fishing poems from an early edition of the Farmers’ Almanac:
A Fisherman’s Prayer
God grant me a little more time
To pick up my rod, and cast my line.
Work and worry disappear
When I pick up my fishing gear.
With boat on trailer, I will go
Anywhere the fishing’s not too slow.
Work just doesn’t seem so fine
When I see what’s at the end of my fishing line.
When I am feeble, old and grey
Please don’t take my pole away.
When the Pearly Gates open wide
Please find this old fisherman, one good lake inside!
By Jeannette Hoppes