Mountain Stream

The mountain stream
proves purity,
as the granite boulders
provide obstacle.

I have come here year after year,
proving myself
with rod and gear.
Co-dependent we exact our response.

The stream side plants
exude their perfume.
I am intoxicated by their bloom
and mesmerized by their fragrance.

I am in the moment
mystical and spiritual.
My god creation
demonstrates love to me.

I paint rainbow with my fly
upon the water now my canvas.
The water stirs and the fish
rises to the surface.

I desire no death
and my hook is barbless.
To release what is not mine
is reasonable and harmless.

The sound of swirling water
and dark hidden pools,
promise surprise
and treasure unseen.

Someday my ashes will fill
this water running to the sea.
Stream to lake and river make
the way I shall return.

reply to post by grayeagle


Well said.

reply to post by grayeagle


I liked it.
Very nice poem friend.

Peace and love
-nat the mangled cat-

Thanks for the responses. I wrote this one and The Beer on the Bar last night after having a couple at the local pub.
Maybe that's why both of them got duplicated! Oops!

As one fly fisherman to another....that was pure poetry at it's finest...loved it, I also paint Rainbows..

reply to post by Soloprotocol


There are streams in Idaho that run through granite boulders and trout lay in dark shadows holding just to the side of the current waiting for their next meal. They are wise and especially cautious toward the end of summer when the water level drops. They captured my heart from the time I was eight and began fly fishing. They still hold it for ransom. I will pay them back at the end of my life and my ashes are returned to that mountain stream.