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.