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I
wish to be on the North Fork
Where
I can hear the Deer Creek riffle flow,
Along
cabin row to the Lower (Elbow) Hole
where
the evening primrose grows.
High
among the cottonwoods I hear the robins sing,
I
see the hawks overhead with large and powerful wing.
I
hope the sunset tonight is one of orange and pink,
The
deer have now come down to the water for a cool drink.
With
fly rod in hand, waders, vest and stripping basket on,
I
cast far out and the fly swims like graceful swans.
A
summer-run rolls atop the water and I wait,
The
fry they hide in gravel not wanting to be bait.
I
feel a good strike and my Hardy reel sings out forthright,
There
are leaps into mid air, the fish is chrome bright.
He's
now into the backing and my heart skips a beat,
Everyone
along the river is sleeping still in night retreat.
Today
like many other days I need to be here,
To
cast a fly called "Sunrise"
to sunset....
God
how I love it dear.
Ken
James McLeod
More
of Ken's work is available at his Web
Site
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