Can’t resist posting the poem below in tandem with this freshly caught photo my brother Stuart sent me this a.m.– the following first appeared in New Mexico Humanities Review….
My brother tells me about trout,
How at the hatchery he coaxes them
Up narrow waterways, in central Colorado;
He describes their sleek, innumerable
Bodies, leaves carried forward on the flood
Gills fanning in shallows,
Eyes looking out with prehistoric dignity.
My brother shepherds fish,
Paints his dreams in acrylic on fresh paper,
Trims his lamp at night, sleeps warmly under down,
Turns in the waters of sleep, slips free-
Freefalls like a star over incandescent hills of snow,
Comes down soundlessly on thin skis:
Sails without weight or any unmet need,
My brother is trout’s husband;
He slips food into the causeway,
Perceives the spawning, keeps careful charts,
Shepherds pigment into a fusion
With the most delicate movements of his wrist.
I want him to have the fusion
And movement upstream,
The flowering, star-falling joy
Of a love calibrated in days without end.
Happy 56th, Dear Stuart– Rock On!