Summer Past Time

Along the river bend the waters runs shallow

a flick of my fly rod lands in ripples under shade

of an overhanging tree limb.

My father in hip waders reeling in a lively trout,

deftly slipping into his keel.

Glancing down the river my brother wrestles small rapids to fish,

a better vantage point, grinning over his shoulder.

I flash my line into the sunshine that glitters and sparkles on the water.

I wish for good fishing!