evening poem, april 1, 2016

He stands in the broad river, a dark silhouette in the distance

The sun behind is on the western horizon, the late summer day fades

The laughing water around already silvered by the moon.

His straw hat and khaki vest.  He lifts the long rod like a wand

And the line lifts off of the shallow below and curls aloft

The bend moving as in slow motion and whipping as it reaches the end

He bends the rod forward and the line straightens and then curls forward

Dropping once again into the pool below.  And the river keeps running.


Copyright 2016

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