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A Trophy of the Water
The line drapes across the water.
The black, cold, water.
I stand on the bank.
With nothing but a pole.
My grip stays strong.
I reel in slowly.
As my crankbait cuts through the water.
It slices through like a hot knife to butter.
Then suddenly the line runs.
The drag clicks as it begins releasing line.
The pole bends dramatically.
The line zigs and zags in the water.
I reel in.
Quickly, but careful not to break the line.
We fight a long fight.
Until he gives in.
My trophy is in my hands.
A win undoubtedly.

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I enjoy fishing and this piece of writing came natural to me.