It's after midnight, and the last cool winds of Spring are blowing across the lake. A patch of surface ripple sails toward the shore like the shadow of an invisible sailboat, and a strong gust plunges into the creaking pines.
The moon brightens above the horizon like a white poker chip, and I cast my lure again onto its silvery path. I watch the rings radiate out and begin turning the reel. The only bite I feel is from the wind whistling across my line, blowing cold mist onto my shirt.
At the moment, the only thing certain about my future is that it will include more moments like this...and a lot of poker.