Atop a jetty rock I stand,
fragile flyrod in my hand,
trying to ignore the surge
that breaks to spray me on the verge.
I need to climb still further out
to cast, but I am filled with doubt:
I hesitate in fear -- I freeze
and tremble in the ocean breeze.
Am I too old, my balance lost?
And if I fall, how great the cost?
Is this how I will kick the bucket?
What the hell, I'm fishing! Fuck it!