In Our Family, There Was

Ahead And To The West Was Our Ranger Station - And The Mountains Of Idaho, Poems Of Geology Stretching Beyond Any Boundaries And Seemingly Even Beyond The World.

I Sat There And Forgot And Forgot, Until What Remained Was The River That Went By And I Who Watched. On The River The Heat Mirages Danced With Each Other And Then They Danced Through Each Other And Then They Joined Hands And Danced Around Each Other. Eventually The Water Joined The River, And There Was Only One Of Us. I Believe It Was The River.

I Am Haunted By Waters.

We Sat On The Bank And The River Went By. As Always, It Was Making Sounds To Itself, And Now It Made Sounds To Us. It Would Be Hard To Find Three Men Sitting Side By Side Who Knew Better What A River Was Saying.

One Great Thing About Fly Fishing Is That After A While Nothing Exists Of The World But Thoughts About Fly Fishing