Like Some Slim Branch of Heaven

All day I sit here with my fishing pole
Like some slim branch of Heaven, bent
With all the glory of the stars, and kick my feet
In this green water to disturb the fish.
I don’t much like the cleaning of their flesh,
Thumbing their guts out and the rest.
My only food for all the day’s an apple and the apple’s core
Is all my bait. I read Plotinus ere I rest,
And then up early when the birds are warming in the nest.
Once and for all you may ask why
I sit here, though I’m bound to die
Before too many other moons are spent;
I’d answer, if you asked, 
With question of why dame Rapunzel let
That glorious fragrant ladder of her hair
Fall down through emerald regions of the air
Into the soiled hands of a careering knight.
Perhaps she knew something that we do not.