A bond forms when walking a stream.
Whether you study its fluid dynamics,
The aquatic fauna and flora,
Or simply enjoy the company,
The line connects the rod holder
To a ballet of scales and invertebrates.
Rhythmically paddling back and forth,
Stationary at the seams of faster currents,
Patiently waiting for the optimal meal
Until a passing morsel
Sitting on the trunk of my little black car
Emptying my sieve-like waders
And breaking down my gear,
I feel complete after a day of fishing.
I am the rod, the line, the fly, the water,
And the fish.