Friday, March 2, 2018

Trout (Day 408)

Overhanging branches  speckled brown as trout 
by months of unfiltered sun and lingering 
drought   spring-fed streams   cold 
and clean on the surface   water of many 
rivers   flowing warily westward   rising 
through narrow 
chasms of  
swiftening under bridges built 
when mystery veiled the moon 
spreading out 
into the ease of a broad delta plain.

Looking down-river   watching 
water-spiders float effortlessly on the taut skin 
of a deep-plunging pool   shady niches 
harbor insect worlds and coarse bits 
of upstream-stories drift past 
tell tale rings on the green-black surface 
where fish rise to kiss the air
and all of this will help 
you see
and all you will see 
in all of this
is an iridescent flash—a fish darting 
into shadows in front of 
or behind rocks or submerged fallen trees—
swimming impossibly fast   like a dream
disappearing before your eyes 
because they spotted you 
before you 
were able to lure them with the subtle bait 
fastened on your glinting hook.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: steinchen/Pixabay

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