Catching Fish

I stood on the bank and cast my line. A shining green and gold bass took my bait and flashed its scales just below the surface as I reeled him in.

Excited, I pulled him up to examine my catch. Each scale iridescent in the sun, it flapped its tail with power. Show-off fish.

I saw it's gills straining to breathe. Flaring and red, he struggled. As much as I wanted to make him mine, his eyes began to lose their luster.

Prying my hook loose I thought about how the fish wasn't ready to join me in the oxygen-rich air. It wasn't mature enough to take home, anyway. The fish would not trust me unless I let it go. If I caged it, it would not grow and mature. It sought out the comfort of what it knew. Despite it's power and spirit, it would not see the wisdom of being caged until it met a few more fishermen.

Wiser fish are harder to catch. They sink down low and hide, learning not to trust bait offered so willingly. I'll lose this fish to wisdom and the safety of the weeds.

Unselfishly, I put it back.