Tying up a New Poker Hand

There's a certain expectancy when I sit down at the reed table and tie up a new blank reed.

What will this one be like? Will it allow itself to be scraped into a decent reed? Even better than decent, like, unexpectedly fine? Or will some unseen flaw in the cane cause it to split the instant I pull those first windings of thread tightly? (don't laugh, it still happens often enough)

Now I've played enough poker to recognize the same hope, waiting for a new hand. Just before the first card is dealt, that same sense of anticipation fills me: Hey, this might be the best poker hand of the evening. Or, even if it's not that great, it might be good enough that fortune and skill can transform it into a winning hand.

Or, like that cane that splits, I could take one look at it, and know I'll have to fold.

But even after getting a complete bust of a hand, I know there's always another one coming.

Always another piece of cane that might take the pot.