The Fisherman

Today in the brief, bright sunlight of noon at Winter Solstice I saw a man fishing.
I saw him from my seat inside the light-rail train that glides behind car dealerships, un-lovely apartment buildings, and beside an urban stream.
The stream is more like a river today thanks to heavy rainfall last night.
The fisherman gave me hope. Who would think to drop a line in this dirty and ignored path to the Pacific? Surely, he is an optimist.
Will the man catch a fish? Do fish even live in such a place? My hopes are yes and yes.