Just to show you all how bad I got it for this year's fishing season, I jotted down this little ditty today:
With the robin home and the snow receding,
the old man's grip on our disposition, loosed.
There's an arid warmth of Spring's breath - still fleeting,
carried back to us on the wings of a goose.
Under liquid mirrors a trout is feeding,
as a steelhead fans her spawning bed.
The earthen incense fills my nares,
a siren's call reverbs in my head.
For it's the time of year I'm filled with yearning,
it's the time my ailment is most prevalent.
A trout fever illness some just call fishing,
but for me and obsession and time well spent.
So, please fear not my friends of my distant eyes,
in my mind I've already taken up rod, reel, and fly...
Happy spring and tight lines for 2010!!
Muddler
No comments:
Post a Comment