I Heard the Lapping Water

My eyes were unaccustomed.
I heard the lapping water,
the sun throwing itself.
I took off my shoes and
waded into that bright
glistening as though called
from the far shore, feeling
the silk of silt between my toes.

I don’t know how long I stood
in the water. I just remember
my father placing the worms
on the hook while I chattered
the silence away and all of
the fish, thirty-five years ago.