Quiet Waters
2/20/17
2/20/17
Far from road noise
Away from the sounds of construction vehicles
Absent from garden and lawn tractors
Distant from passing locomotives
Beyond the crowds that
are enjoying the warm February weather
Absent from local fishermen
I come to the remoteness of the forest
The small creek flows with the sound of gentle riffles
Birds rustle about the dry forest foliage
A lone leaf can be heard tipping bare branches
as if falls from an aged oak
The smell of forest pines
The coolness of the forest breeze
The presence of laurel
The calmness that is felt
The lightness of the 3 weight fly rod
I roll cast into the mountain stream
My hand tied nymph drifts within the dark waters
searching
The line hesitates
and with a swift but gentle set
the line tightens
The rod flexes with activity
A wild trout tugs and darts
A small brown comes to hand
Its beauty is unmatched
Its release is unharmed
Away from the sounds of construction vehicles
Absent from garden and lawn tractors
Distant from passing locomotives
Beyond the crowds that
are enjoying the warm February weather
Absent from local fishermen
I come to the remoteness of the forest
The small creek flows with the sound of gentle riffles
Birds rustle about the dry forest foliage
A lone leaf can be heard tipping bare branches
as if falls from an aged oak
The smell of forest pines
The coolness of the forest breeze
The presence of laurel
The calmness that is felt
The lightness of the 3 weight fly rod
I roll cast into the mountain stream
My hand tied nymph drifts within the dark waters
searching
The line hesitates
and with a swift but gentle set
the line tightens
The rod flexes with activity
A wild trout tugs and darts
A small brown comes to hand
Its beauty is unmatched
Its release is unharmed
A smile forms between my cheeks
Excitement flows through my veins
Confidence is assured
I search for another
As the sun lowers, evening draws near
Shadows form beneath the bank side laurel
The coolness of the temperature becomes more noticeable
Another wild trout struggles at the end of the line
Shadows form beneath the bank side laurel
The coolness of the temperature becomes more noticeable
Another wild trout struggles at the end of the line
The day comes to a close
The journey home begins
A fire cured stogie awaits
Memories of this day comes to ponder
The journey home begins
A fire cured stogie awaits
Memories of this day comes to ponder
~doubletaper
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