A new day warms itself, the bigger fish swim near the surface. In twos and threes the seagulls rise, then glide low and rise again. The nearby mountain soon passes and the far one comes closer. Several huts in the far village shimmer at times through the mist. Whole schools of fish come into view where water is deep and clear.
Pleasant sunlight smoothes the surface, the gentle waves glide like oil.
Ch u s fisherman song comes to mind, I nearly forget the fish. Evening willows remain a joy, flowers more amazing still. I d like to roam the tender grass, pick orchids and gromwells too. At least we re far away from the dusty world of men. I ve put down the fishing rod to watch moonlight through the awning.