‘Down in the depths
of that black pool,’
his father said,
‘the great fish lie.

If you should lightly
cast your fly in shadow
when the sun is down
below the mountaintop,
you just might raise one
to your blandishments.’

They were too wise,
those old grown trout,
to bite on hidden hook.
All he caught
was evening’s light,
red on the ripples,
kingfisher’s wing,
dusk’s song,
and the one who came
to cool her breasts
in water tumbling
over rock’s sill where
the dippers built a nest.

She took the barb,
made his reel scream,
but he’d put on
too light a line
and she swam free,
away.

Milner- this is quite something.  Only you can put everything here and yet feels just right.

All he caught..........the dipper built a nest.  A marvelous line, not taut, just right.

Excellente

Jesse

beauty will out and have her way
no hook can ever best the time
she touches you and leaves you sway
unloved on end of your own line

michael

I like the anecdotal opening dialogue, a story about to unfold, perhaps about the one that got away.  And then I am caught, hooked absolutely, by the

All he caught
was evening’s light,
red on the ripples,
kingfisher’s wing,
dusk’s song,

And then I am blown away with the surpirse of

and the one who came
to cool her breasts
in water tumbling
over rock’s sill where
the dippers built a nest.

Milner, you never cease to amaze.  Great beauty in this; great heart; thank you.

lynn

What else can I add to the other three women's comments?

You caught us all and your creel must be full.

Yes, extrordinary.

Thanks, Jesse. I'm continually surprised by reactions to different poems (and the worst judge of my own work). I seriously hesitated about submitting this. So thanks again.

milner

That's some of the way of it, Michael. (bows)

milner

It turns out to have surprised me, too, Lynn. Much thanks

and Lavonnne

and Larry.

Cheers

milner

A nicer description of evening creekside I don't remember seeing.

Thanks, Rick. It was fun writing this. It just started as some scribble about a pool, then the fish, then the creek in full appeared, the angler and absent father, finally the woman and the birds, 'et voila!'. The adventure of writing!

Cheers

milner