The 18th of April
by Sarah Xenophon
Mayfly wings emerge from the frost of spring
Silent beating wings above shimmering ripples
Low sun plays at the wavering pools below hemlock
Mossy stones steadfast against the rushing cold
Silent beating wings above shimmering ripples
The cast, long and low, whispers flight as it passes
Mossy stones steadfast against the rushing cold
Young brook trout glide like lace curtains in a summer breeze
The cast, long and low, whispers flight as it passes
Reel and rod in rhythm
Young brook trout move like lace curtains in a summer breeze
Keen eyes and patient hands
Reel and rod in rhythm
Scales burst from white water and disappear undertow
Keen eyes and patient hands
Taut line sheds beads of glistening triumph
Mayfly wings emerge from the frost of spring
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