To cast far is to cast well.
I’ve always believed that
the biggest fish are just
beyond my range
and lie in dark water
I could never swim to.
But experience is the wisdom
that has me now casting
closer to shore,
nearest the reeds
and overgrowth — a subtleness
geared to result.
It’s still early in the season
and the beaches are lined
with jars of worms
and salmon eggs —
talk of bag limits
and hatchery trucks.
I’m glad though to see
the lines
with hooks and bobbers
already hung up
in limbs of overhanging oaks —
caught there by kids
who swear and pull
and fall on their ass.
They see my fish and ask
where they are
and how to catch them.
I tell them
they have the right idea
and to just keep
humming it out there.
