Spent the morning chopping
and piling wood and then fished
the dusty afternoon alone.
Fished as the sun dipped
behind the trees.
Fished as the dark came on.
I didn’t catch a damn thing,
but looking up from the river
now and then,
seeing the mountains
and hearing the faint, distant sounds
from the road, a few miles back,
I realized that all of my yearning
and suffering had dissipated
and that it was nice to be far
from everything – and myself.

~ Tyler Bigney

Tyler Bigney was born in 1984. He lives, and writes in Nova Scotia, Canada. He writes short stories, poetry, essays, and travelogues. His writing has appeared in: Poetry New Zealand, Iodine, and Underground Voices, among others.

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