The Fisherman

It was cold and windy while the waves were pulling me about the spacious horizon.
The Jet skiers flying past look at me like a bobber in the stormy sea.
Fishermen rushed towards their favorite spots in a race.
The day went slow, casting over and over again not catching much.
The fish hit slow.
A subtle tug pulled my line.
A subtle tug grew into a yank.
Off he went, once I set the hook.
The fish was pulling my kayak around as if I had abandoned all sense of control.
Adrenaline rushed through my veins pumping strength.
The gears spun as I reeled in the fish.
It jumped from the water wiggling through the air like a worm breaking through the dirt.
And so the cycle continues...