On a sunday afternoon

Fishing is a game of patience.
Cast after cast all day long will bring you nothing
if you don't exercise the correct techniques.
This one had been hitting his lure over and over,
but didn't want to swallow a false bravado.
But the experienced angler knows how to play the game.
Draw the lure ever more slowly in front of it's face
until the bait is too incredibly tantalizing to resist.
Once she has a hold of it,
you have to tug on the reel for all its worth
and make sure the hook sinks in.

The spring seldomly arrives early,
but on a Sunday afternoon in February
the sun's rays bounced fancifully off her face.
Her beauty was muted from his attention
until he witnessed those pastel shadows
draw across her face that sunny afternoon.
Hair pulled back,
was a look he'd never seen her adorn
before, it revealed earings he hadn't yet recognized,
but he was fond of it.
He was fond of her,
in a way that few experience
but her intentions were still unclear.
Day turned to night
and her persistent presence
was becoming a mystery.

Spontaneity was his strong suit,
not hers.
Yet all day, her pursuance
led him to believe he had a catch.
Once you've got her on the reel, it's only a matter or keeping her on the line...