The poet is like a fisherman
Casting his line into a pool of ideas
Waiting for one to bite
Not a nibble
He moves to a different pond
Where the ideas are jumping
He snags one
It doesn't fight
He reels it up easily
The idea is weak
He throws it back
His line jerks
He struggles with the pole
The idea pulls him into the pond
Too strong
One last cast before the day ends
It's a big one
But not too tough
He reels in the perfect sized idea
He takes it home and cooks
The perfect poem
