The Fly Fisherman

Flying halfway round the world,
a thousand dollars spent, 
no, more than that, much more.
Wading in Alaskan stream so cold
it's barely liquid, and he wonders if the trip
this year was worth it, and then suddenly
she's there, right there, illusive, wily 
Steelhead, whopping big, so beautiful
he gasps and reels her in. Holding nature
in his hands he feels her life, her passion
for survival, looks her in the eye,
takes out the hook and takes
a picture with his prize. Thirty seconds later,
throws her back with tenderness into 
same stream he'll come back to 
hoping for a second rendezvous. 
In dreams, until then, she will visit often. 
No one understands that thirty seconds 
of such glory's worth all of the
waiting hours beneath blue skies and
in the rain. No one but true fishermen.
And, certainly, the fish.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013

A friend wrote about a man from Switzerland visiting Alaska in hopes of catching a Steelhead Trout. His description was so vivid, it prompted this poem.