We're off to where the wild streams flow,
Where fishes hide among the jagged rocks,
And sunlight shines a quiet pool.
We're going where we men will act like men
And seek the hidden flash of silver or of gold,
The power-laden flesh that so eludes us
That we come again to fish
At every break in our more ordinary days.
We have left behind
The jeweled bluegills of our youth,
The ones we took
From wooden boats in old farm ponds.
They were a fitting prize for youth,
But we are men and seeking bigger game.
We seek the rainbowed-beauty steelhead,
Baleful muskellunge, and toothéd pike —
The fiercer ones that thrill us when they strike.
And what is it we've left behind
To seek the wily fish’s lair?
Have we abandoned other,
More important purposes —
Our wives, our friends, our kin?
What can we find here,
Hopeless to find back there
Among the comforts
And the knickknacks of domestic bliss?
It is this —
The darker pool,
The tug on line,
The savage fight we love,
The things we must, if we come back as men
Worthy of the love we're given, have.
We seek the spirit of the day to carry back,
To treasure in the quiet beauty of
Our days among our lovers and our friends.
Wild Blue Yonder by Rod MacIver (www.herondance.org)