Night Fishing

One late summer night, my friend Michael called and asked me to go fishing with him. Michael is a photographer by trade and a fisherman in his heart - fishing is his passion, his purpose, his life's pursuit. He fishes alone and with friends, day and night, in any season and in any weather and in every tournament he can find.

It was a night of magic. The water was still as glass and the boat glided in effortlessly and with hardly a sound. Cypress trees were silhouetted against the dark sky and not a breath of air stirred. The moon was very bright, throwing narrow paths of light across the water and all the stars were out. There was no noise save for an occaisonal fish breaking the surface of the water and then disappearing. I heard crickets and frogs very far away and when we would drift toward shore, I could hear the water ever so gently washing up against the docks. Spanish moss hung from the trees like yards of tattered old lace and as Michael guided the boat in and out and around the cypress stumps, the moss would drape and drag across the boat, soft as whispering.

When we spoke, it was in soft voices and low tones so as not to disturb the night. We drifted and while Michael cast, I laid on my back and looked up at the sky, counting stars and blessings. When the sun began to come up, we called it a night.

Michael and I are just friends these days but the gift of that night is still precious. There was peace on the water, serenity in the air and fish in the lake. Nature and God came together and made magic.