This poem I found and changed slightly for Matt.  He loves fishing and his favorite fish is a Snook.  I wish I could tell you the author’s name.

The sun sets over a water just enough
to observe the magnificence of the day.
The evening is cool but not cold,
and the air is still.
If there is perfection in life,
it comes when sitting on a glassy surface
with senses high and expectations great.
How could it be better?

The enticing shrimp with long dancing legs 
Moves gracefully just under the surface
The only disturbance on the water
is a small wake generated by the line
as it cuts a thin trail through
the roof of the home of the ever elusive Mr. Snook.
Each cast of the reel is accompanied
by anxious anticipation.

Even though expectations are high
The explosive strike comes as a surprise.
How could such violence not be startling?
The adrenaline flow offers an immediate rush,
and only the quick reaction of the angler
connects the two in a test of
power against skill.
The fight is on.