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It's been, oh maybe, twenty years
since last I came this way.
Or maybe it was yesterday.
Time goes quickly, it's hard to say.

My rod's with me, I'm here to fish
in mountain waters running clear and white
in hope this setting will diminish
memories of loss ere comes the night.

So I stop beside a stoney riffle's pool
tie on a fly, I hope to match the hatch
then wave my rod, my wand, my tool
and lock my thoughts up with a latch.

Southern summer's sun warms my old cap
while cold river makes my feet turn blue
but I manage to ignore all that
while laying line out straight and true.

Mend the line, adjust the drift
to pass near the far side's gravel shore
then begin the next cast's lift.
The wand waves and places line once more.

I soon settle into a thoughtless groove,
rod moving like a long thin metronome,
feet sensing slick bottom with each move
for the next target tired eyes search and roam.

Once in a while a flash and jump
as a rainbow gets a rude surprise
then dashes toward a rock or stump.
I either catch or lose the prize.

Time slowly adds to straw creel's weight
but the spell breaks when the sun turns west
while shadows stretch from cliffs of of slate.
I'm grateful;for a short time I've been blessed.

For these few hours I forgot to grieve,
forgot another loved one laid to rest.
But now it's time for me to leave
and chase the sun home toward the west.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
I have often sought solitude in nature during times of grief...........
Editing stage: 


Nothing more to say.

A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

There are times when being in a place where one can immerse in thought free actions allows us asylum from grief............stan

author comment

the way tou loft down the imagery from the imagination of pure symbolism, i truly attest to your prowess and your metaphors make me love your works , Stan, what a wonderful poet you are

I'm pleased you like this but now I feel like I'm being set up for a favor of some sort lol. But seriously, I' am glad you took the time to read this............stan

author comment

A write from your usual grand vision of yesterday, Lovely to walk with you though I forgot my wellies, Now my socks is wet I shall tell the wife it's sweat.
To forget something by drawing your thoughts into a challenge is a good theme, your form stayed throughout the piece, Great,
Yours, Ian

Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

It's been a few years since I waded a river for trout. Rocks are too slippery to risk falling with already fragile knees, but when I Did wade them I did so in tennis shoes and blue jeans. Where I live the summer is too hot for chest waders but just barely not too hot for trout up in the higher elevations. So now during times of grief I reckon I'm limited to low land fishing and walking. Appreciate your time to drop by.........stan

author comment
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