The New Story
It is an old story that fishermen
never tell the truth.
The politician is just as bad. He justifies the moon.
But looking up at the moon, sometimes finds the sun
is worth more than handshakes.
Yesterday, the river suddenly cleared.
I took it as a sign to fish dry flies,
casting over the slower edges
which spilled back into the main current.
But slipping in the swift water,
I bobbed away, a stupid thing to do.
Here’s the new story: measure words
in inches, a scale for whether a man or fish
should be thrown back.