Just some words for the day. Found this in Greys Sporting Journal, thought I'd put it up to share with people.
"Trout That Swim"
Wait to wade. Streamside, kneel, retrieve a stone
from the wet edge. Beneath slither the nymphs
of flies, a moving prehistoric sketch.
They scuttle their inept attempts at bone
to undermine the light, your sight, and hints
of what will cast successfully. Yet you catch
that shine, that peacock herl. This refusal
whets wish, is charming as a timid princess.
Understand a rock if you would match
(undistracted by the bobbing ousel)
1920s Harmony-made Bruno Tiple
7 hours ago