Dapping on the surface
Trailing a wake of
Rehashed hard luck stories
Mis-spent dreams and
Might have beens
Heedless that he is out-depthed
He holds to his line
And works the bar

Tied by a master
Plumage plucked to order
Starling blue, sparrow dun
Two fine threads
Gold and black
Crosswound, tied off
Sealed with honeywax -
Stealthy weapon of deception

He feels the shifting currents
He reads the weather-gauge
Spring tide, autumn flood
Both echo in his veins
Gnarly and half-sodden
The old fly baits his game
Past his best, yes - but
Potent all the same

*The fish are wary
But the fly is patient

I knew an old stoat to relieve his throat
drank custard from his fungible boot

Be mine dear Prunus, be mine
He sang
Never mind dear Dulcis, never mind

And as he drank and sang, and sang and drank
I began to thank, and thank so hard I nearly sank
too depths so depthed too deep to see
the rolling mood washed over me.

*Let’s link arms dear Prunis
and turn our noble gaze
and together ride the ocean swell
until the end of days