A fly fishing poem.

[roger pemberton]

Hello everyone.

Zach, it has been a while, I hope you are well.

I was crossing the dam this morning on the way to work and looked down upon the Little Red River.  Since the flooding rains we had last week the generators have been running non-stop and the river is very high.  With no end in sight it will be a while before I get the chance to fish again.  I started thinking about my last few days on the Little Red and when I finally got to the office I jotted this down.  I hope you all enjoy it.

“Standing”

Long strands of determination lie
on the water.

Cast from the hand with
doubt after a long day of solitude

and little else.
Eyes strain to see the insignificant

piece of yarn floating above
the film of scum –

waiting for that twitch to signify
the savior of a wasted day.

Standing, standing, standing, never
moving the lower body that is almost

frozen and would have trouble
moving anyway.

Arm held tight against the side as
the arc of the line flies a bit less

gracefully than earlier today.
Patience wears thin as the light dims

in the sky and the shadows fall
across the trees and rocks

of the far bank.

Roger Pemberton

[Author]

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