|
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
God luck getting back on your feet!
Sometimes the fish are there but not biting then suddenly it turns on. Sometimes its little fish biting but the big ones mixed in are not. I once cast plugs from my boat to bluefish all around me. Damned fish would follow the lure right to the hull but not bite. Bluefish no less!
|