~
Heaving rain soaked blue jeans
over fallen and rotted fir trees
I struggled to follow my uncle
and father through the forest.
They moved almost mythical,
never disturbing low hanging branches
or crushing limbs with an echo of snaps,
misty bodies weaving in and out of shadow.
For one moment I lost sight
as they slipped over an embankment
and slid down to the water’s edge.
A deep panic filled me
as I scrambled to catch up.
When I poked my head up over the berm
and saw them standing above the slide
a smiled passed my lips.
My father reached tobacco stained fingers
down the shaft of a wooden stake
and pulled a wire up from the murk.
Feeling tension on the line, he let out a whoop.
It was the first set on this creek
and already we had paid for dinner and gas.  /