Friends Fish at Lake Ingalls

Early summertime offered time
fashioned by lengthier daylight
and temperate weather.
You and a friend of yours who
used to play university baseball,
used to be a big deal I hear,
hiked in with your fly fishing rods.
I didn’t have one—I still don’t,
and there’s no shame in that.

When we arrived at the top, at the lake basin,
clouds rolled in
and winds lashed the mountainsides.
You and your friend proceeded to fish anyways
in that wind.

Nestled between a family of boulders,
I wept bitterly as I spoke to God
about the circumstances that had brought me
to the very place I sat, pleading
for time to elapse irregularly,
for a navigable path,
for a damned fly fishing rod



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s