STANDING STREAMSIDE

Standing streamside...Your rod is strung

You've chosen your fly and tied it on

Stealthily, you crawl, stalking your prey

anticipating a bountiful day

There's a nice trout starting to rise

you throw your bait, an insect in disguise

Your fly drifts slow 'cross the pool of deep

then out of the water you see him leap

Your heart races as your rod bends double

Landing this lunker may present some trouble

There are flashes of silver as he turns to flee

Then he wraps your line around sunken tree

You stare in bewilderment at your ill fate

So thus it begins as earlier on that date

Standing streamside...Your rod is strung

You've chosen your fly...now retie it on.

Boot Pierce, March 1998