A Fish to Remember

A Fish to Remember

Drifting the float at first light,
half asleep when a bright steelhead
mouths the jig and violently
dunks the bobber and lunges
clear out of the water. Walks, it seems
across the riffles, then splashes and disappears.
Line limp, I stare into the water as if
a ghost had just appeared. Well, it did.
And it occurred without witness.
I take this apparition with me everywhere,
Wherever I go. Even in my dreams at night.
Even out here in Nevada,
in the great, arid southwestern desert- my
home now. When I contemplate the river
and the loss decades ago, I’m amazed
how vivid the memory of a singular moment
of a fish flashing furiously then disappearing.
At night, asleep I listen to the river
and the splash at first light, over and over again.