Fishing

In the woods I came on an old friend
fishing
and I asked him a question
and he said, "Wait."

Fish were rising in the deep stream
but his line was not stirring
but I waited.
It was a question about the sun

about my two eyes
my ears my mouth
my heart the earth with its four seasons
my feet where I was standing
where I was going

it slipped through my hands

as though it were water
into the river
it flowed under the trees
it sank under hills far away
and was gone without me
then where I stood night fell

I no longer knew what to ask
I could tell that his line had no hook
I understood that I was to stay and
eat with him

~ W.S. Merwin ~