Thoughts are like fish

 

A fine summer evening, strolling aimlessly along a shore,
Beset with a thousand thoughts,
I saw the cormorant fishermen returning.
I wanted to ask about the sun, moon and the creation of the universe, purpose in life 
and  so many other questions.
With fingers on lips, their silence was eloquent,
"Hush now,  the fish are rising". I stood and watched.
The water shimmered with flashes of light, like mackerel scales.
Clouds drifted, tugging at the blue horizon with thick, silken strands;
Shadows of the lilac evening deepened.  Questions drained away.
Calling cormorants fished,
With neither hook nor line,
I wondered -
How does one catch fish without a hook?
I detected fragments of whispered answers, but nothing clearly.