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Pines and Rocks, by Paul Cezanne, 1897


Fly Fishing in January
by Sharmagne Leland-St. John

I know at the end
of this gently sloping
pine grove trail
there will be a small trout stream
full of rainbows and silvers
maybe even a fario or two.

I'll slip into my waders
and gingerly step
into the chilly waters,
wet some line and cast out.

I'll drop the fly just under
the rock ledge where fish
might be drowsing.

Then I'll glance back
and imagine I see my husband
perched on the mossy rock,
untangling wind-knots,
smiling at my perfect cast…

and I'll try not to cry.


For Richard
1928~2002


 

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