A Fisherman's Prayer

What price, O Lord,
Would we have to pay
For the still of a morning
At the breaking of day?

What price for a sunrise,
Or the morning's early mist
Like the smoke of creation
On the lake's still breast?

What price for the beauty
Reflected in a quiet lagoon,
What price for the song
Of the early bird's tune?

What price for the joy
Of a quietly floating cork,
For the sway of the line
In the breeze of the morn?

What price for the thrill
Of a cork pulled under,
For the hook set just right
In that fish down yonder?

What price for the joy
As the fishing pole's bent,
For the tug on the line
As your catch is reeled in?