Fly Fishing

Royal Fern at Big Soddy Creek photographed by Ray Zimmerman.

Fly Fishing    
                        Published in The Avocet, Summer 2020

When I was young and sad 
I carried a rod of finest cane 
to a Kansas farm pond; 
popped blue gill with 
a deer hair popper.

At the next pond up 
I tied on a Domino Nymph. 
Black and white it shone. 
I don’t know what insect 
it was meant to imitate. 

You dove deep with that fly, 
as I kept the rod tip high; then 
you tail walked across the pond. 
You broke line and were gone, 
bigger than any bass I had ever caught.

From that day since 
Nature has been my solace, 
perhaps from even before 
but you cemented my naturalist persona 
and I knew I would always be a fisherman. 

Flying fish

When fishing, you must take a chance.
Be Careful not to snag your pants.

Don’t send that hat into the air.
No flying fish are waiting there, 

unless you’re on an ocean wave 
where some fish fly. They must be brave. 

They leave their element behind. 
Too many predators they find. 

But local fish avoid the sky, 
unless a large-mouthed bass can fly. 

Wren

The tiny wren is fierce, 
with the loudest of bird calls.
Feathered and furred creatures
beware the vigilant wren.
 
A tasty morsel they could be
for any hawk or owl, 
Hastily they will retreat
With hunters on the prowl.

They defy those other beings
who enter their domain. 
Accost me daily on my deck
and so, I don’t remain.

Silently they leave
when jays and crows arrive
Despite their loud bravado 
they know how to survive.