Watercolor by Sharmagne Leland-St. John

by Jane Lang

He told me it was a science
nothing to it.
Going for rainbows, the lures
did the talking.
He could stand for hours
casting, thinking, musing.
The science was a quick flex
of his left wrist
the zing—the sparkle.

He said a Royal Coachman,
or Brown Hackle
and Boogeyman
were his favorites
they'd invite, tantalize, catch.
The science says Spring
before water starts heating up
or Fall when it's cooling down.

Me? I'd go along, sit in the car
read a book.
He would be out there about now
explaining shapes, weights, angles.
Wish science
could bring him back...


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