Tuesday, February 17, 2009
A little poem I found
This little poem hung on the bulletin board of the flyshop I used to run. I have absolutely no idea where it came from, or who wrote it, but it sure is profound, deep, and reflective, which is why it hung where it did. Please let me share this with you. Sit back, pour a nice merlot and enjoy...
You find them at flea markets
and yard sales,
old South Bends and Pfluegers,
with fancy engraving,
knurled knobs and pearl handles,
spooled with the fraying line
of long stories snarled into silence,
not just exaggerated tales of walleyes, bass, and catfish,
but of hardworking men who on Saturdays sought out
the solace of lakes, who on weekdays at desks,
or standing on ladders,
or next to clattering machines
played out their youth and strength
waiting to set the hook, and then,
in their sixties, felt the line go slack
and reeled the years back empty.
They are the ones that got away...