my waders have been worn well.
not always consistently.
a season skipped.
but worn well.
they are paper thin
with neoprene booties.
i tie on my felt bottom boots.
they say we should move away from those.
we run the risk of transferring aquatic hitchikers.
stepping into the water a trickle of cold begins.
down the back of my calf. each leg.
kissing my kneecaps.
rising slowly to body temperature.
catch my breath when crotch hits waves.
give me a minute.
ready to fish.
later I slosh, slosh, slosh up to my car.
out comes the flood.
music and the road.
that's a good day.