What a Wonderful Day!

The skunk cabbage is in full bloom
and so aptly named,
a fragrant warning
of the muddy swamp I’m in.

I am like a fly trying to escape the doom,
this organic glue that won‘t release my feet,
makes sucking sounds as if this swamp,
is licking its lips having had something to eat.

The small creek lays waiting just up ahead,
beckoning me to fish where it has been left alone,
after all who would be making this foolish journey?
Calf deep, I continue to slog forward on my own.

One shoe is threatening to come off
and I am forced to stand one legged like a stork,
while I bend down and tighten my laces.
I have stood long enough for the flies to find my face.

The heat is oppressive,
made worse by the humidity.
I have brought no water
depending on the clear, cold stream instead.

There is a constant noise of insects in the background,
and birds and squirrels and a distant highway.
I am getting closer to the stream and the next foe,
the stinging nettles are waiting for me ahead.

I have worn a long sleeve shirt for my armor
to keep the nettles at bay on this hot day.
They still find ways to rake my hands and neck
and leave there fiery raised welts.

Then I see my goal at last,
a dark hole under the opposite bank.
There is no back cast
for there is a wall of thick brush.

I drop my fly into the water and let it drift into the hole.
There is an explosion as the cutthroat breaks the water.
I am now connected to this marvelous living creature,
its life force transferred up the pole.

I can feel its muscles and desperation,
fighting for its freedom.
I see its crimson slash beneath its gills
and the shimmer of its scales.

It makes several runs to get back under the bank
but I hold the tip of my pole high
and keep it out in the light,
out in my sight.

It relents and comes to my hands.
I get them wet before I handle it
to protect it while I release it.
I remove the hook and it swims away.

I move up the creek catching and releasing.
From one hole to another,
we meet and battle until
I finally grow tired.

I make my way back and into the swamp.
I am more tired now and the effort becomes more difficult
But when I finally clear the mud and reach the road,
I stop and look back and remark, “What a wonderful day!”

reply to post by grayeagle


I enjoyed that friend. That was very nice. I could see, hear and feel all of it.

*thumbs up*

reply to post by natalia


Thanks Nat! It was an actual experience when I was fishing a small stream in northern Idaho called Moore Creek. I would never trade those experiences for any amount of gold. There are things in life worth the effort and discomfort to experience. This was one of them. Peace my friend.