Two Sides of the Mirror

The shadow of a trout
in the stream below a sloping meadow
wildflower, sagebrush blue, seeping springs
that stain the grass pressed flat, moss and growth and rot

the shadow of a trout taunts and tempts
a slight motion, only the motion to stay in place
stay here and watch the shadow at your feet
feeding and imprisoned by the mirror

somewhere in the current, he breaks
up and out of the distorted mottled deep
ankle deep and wondering at knots and placement
when and where again?

the shadow of a trout
on the gold-stained rocks awaits
and waiting feeds and breathes water
not spooked, just looking

but the sun slips a little bit lower
imprisoned by the flow
and the fish rises slightly again
a flash of scales and bleeding throat and gone

cast out and upward
casting about and nervous of nothing
the nothingness of breeze
blows back the fly, it dances and lays down, the surface uneven

cast and cast and tie and change
looking for the golden back, the sides stained with red
not sure the origin, only wild and native
natural and the river below the sloping meadow just flows on

the shadow of a trout moving upstream
toward a break and willow branches dead
hanging low, catching current and line and weeds
that occasionally stir loose impatient

cast and mend and pull the fly a little closer
waiting for another rise, another tease
cast and cast and tie and change
looking at the shadow settling easily

and finally the native, wild trout strikes
takes the fly and runs, suddenly solid
toward the branches low, the opaque shadow
the nothingness beneath

too big for the river fed by seeping springs
too big to not burrow and nest in the submerged willows
the dead wood gray and gold below
turning and vanishing, suddenly absent again

regain the broken line
the moment of expectation before and after
happiness at the strike
sadness at the sudden anti-climax, the end of it

and walking up the sloping meadow
wildflowers against the green
look back at the soft textures of the river running small and braided
cattle on the hillside baying

the shadow of a trout
silent
stirs and slinks back into the current line
feeding on the light, imprisoned by the mirror.