No Tale

by Karl Watson

He has a hat of flies
and the story of a great fish
once missed.
Knee deep in the hurried mirror,
he, horizon to horizon,
swings a green stem and line
that moves like mellowed lightning
under the orange breast
of a spring' 8 sky.

Just when the dry fly
is too dry--a lifetime
of cool evening air
and no place to touch-

a flash of trout eye!
A rainbow shadow.
A moonlit speckle.

For an eternal second
the question mark
of a stiff rod
is answered
by all there is in creation-
a bent fish lured to foam
the soft waters
of a once hidden lie.

(c) 1997

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