Night Fishing

The moon seems to be doing nothing tonight.
I know the moon always seems to be doing
nothing, but that knowledge is even more acute now: 
 
standing at the window of my study I think
of my father and I night fishing for the first and last
time, both of us giving up early, having caught no fish,
 
absolute zero, a poor physics, some fishermen we were.
I see a man on the park’s pathway holding aloft
a good-sized fish for the world to see. The tricks the light
 
and your mind can play on you is endless.
But keep doing nothing, moon. You’re beautiful.

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