The daily fly fishing poem is still going (only 25 more to go), here’s the installment for September 5, 2010.
Poem #5: On The Road to Basalt
We fled across Nebraska
chased by black clouds in the rear-view,
Colorado mountains somewhere ahead
out of site still, Waylon on the stereo,
singing “You got the only daddy that’ll walk the line.”
Flatness flashed past the windows
and slowly became less flat,
or at least it felt less flat on your eyes,
when you knew the mountains and
the trout and the drakes were somewhere
out there across the plains,
through the heat shimmer,
past the corn,
past the feed lots,
past the truck-stops.
Casting Around 
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