by Donald Hall I step around a gate of bushes in the mess and trickle of a dammed stream and my shoe fills with cold water. I enter the shade of a thicket, a black pool, a small circle of stunned drowsing air, vaulted with birch which meets overhead as if smoke rose up and turned into leaves. I stand on the...
By Jim Yaussy Albright The wind strainsagainst the ridge as though to tip the balance as the earth shifts on its axis to begin the tilt away from the sun. The lake slips with the earth, and trout stay deep in the slow current. A dark shape on the water: a cicada struggling to stay in the light. I find its image in the fly box, cast it out among the riffles. It bobs and drifts. Time flows with the...
The Song of Wandering Aengus
by William Butler Yeats I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire aflame, But something...
by Jim Yaussy Albright Mid-summer day, sun in the water, and nothing is the same. Something, some intricate balance, has shifted. The shoreline becomes the way that beckons, The journey and the destination, The light that opens, The borderline between worlds that cannot be parted, A looping, lightshot world of its own. Small trout gather there, gather up...
by Jim Harrison I want to die in the saddle. An enemy of civilization I want to walk around in the woods, fish and drink. I’m going to be a child about it and I can’t help it, I was born this way and it makes me very happy to fish and drink. I left when it was still dark and walked on the path to the river, the Yellow Dog, where I spent the day fishing and...