moving water presses against my legs
faint wink of red, maybe gold
at the edge of an eddy
gray drying husks of stoneflies
clinging to the river rocks
a mayfly appears on the surface
then two, ten, hundreds, thousands
i sit on the backside rocks
stunned at the endless parade of mayflies
floating down stream
fluttering, drying their new wings
for the short flight away from the river
while squadrons of swallows dip, zoom
and pick them off the water or in the air
as the trout rise frantically
knowing that this gluttonous feast will not last
later
when all is still and quiet
a greedy trout takes my fly
and bolts downstream
my reel spins and hums
singing my song
The Ace Hotel Notebook 