Thursday, November 29, 2007

Knock, Knock...

"Next to prayer, flyfishing is the most personal relationship of man".

Surrounded by reds and yellows, swallowed up in a portrait of time,
crisp air cutting through the fleece lining of my worn jacket.
Branches crackle, leaves fall, sitting still I begin to feel cold.
Glancing, a small riffle pushes the remains of a weathered leaf down stream,
thoughts of life emerge reflecting on time as I sit on the overgrown, grassy bank.
A momentary lapse of reason, questioning, I ponder the forgotten and stand up, ripping the air with another heavily weighted cast.
Crashing the water, "Knock - Knock....", stripping aggression, "Anyone Home"?

"I knew you'd answer!"

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(recently I have posted some of my short writings on other websites. I will copy and save them here on the blog.)

1 comment:

OzarkAngler said...
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