by Ken Reetz

Created on: July 10, 2008

Fly Fishing

It begins without ceremony,
a few hours of twisting and tying
until pretend insects appear ready to fly.

You will make a dozen or two,
color and size to match the appetite
of a species you profess to know, but don't.

With a soldiers pride
you'll display medals of honor,
stuck on hat and vest with barbless hook.

Tomorrow's first light
will guide your steps to Palo Creek,
where you'll float October Caddis' on its task.

You're a recurring presence,
noticed and tolerated by the locals;
the weird creature with odd guise and manners.

The morning is cool,
mist slow-dancing above the creek
obeying the rhythm of the water's symphony.

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