On Aug 28, 2:43*pm, wrote:


I wrote this a long time ago, and I have experienced the situation of
both anglers at one time or another, I have also made some lifelong
friends as a result.

An angler went a fishing, with hopes exceeding high,
reaching the stream, he grabbed his gear, and tried to choose a fly.
First he looked at pheasant tails, in every shade and hue,
but then his eye caught woolly worms, of which he had a few,
From dry flies back to wet flies, and sorting through his nymphs,
he chopped and changed and hesitated, at every single glimpse.
The fish were rising madly, taking everything that flew,
but still the angler sought in vain, he did not have a clue.

"Well met my brother piscator", another angler hailed,
"How are you faring? Well I hope". "No, up to now I´ve failed.
My casting it is perfect, I have trained for many a year,
and the stream I know it well of course, I often fish it here,
the ways of fish and insects, are also quite well known,
and I have a copy of every one, that here has ever flown,
all this avails me nought I fear, of little use my constant muse,
out of all my large filled boxes, a fly I can not choose".


"That really is a problem, should I then have a look?,
out of all the lovely flies you have, one must bring you luck".
"I know, I know", the angler wailed, his anguish giving voice,
"but now I have so many flies, that I am spoilt for choice.
How have you done then, my friend, how many have you caught?
or has your day been lost as well, in long and useless thought?".
"Oh my creel is full", the angler said, "with good fish as you see,
I have no problems choosing flies, I only possess three".


"I started with a black one, and then used green and brown,
I don´t know what they imitate, but the fish just gulped them down".
"What patterns then?" Our angler cried, frustrated, full of anguish,
"Tell me the names of these great flies, let me not in ignorance
languish,
I am fairly certain if I knew, that lovely fish then, I would also
catch,
please tell me what the patterns are, so I may match the hatch".
"I would really like to help you, but to my everlasting shame,
I don´t know what the things are called, they may even have no name".


"I always use the same ones, and with considerable success,
but I know not what these things are called, what they imitate? much
less.
You may try one if you like though, you can even use my gear,
see, a lovely fish is rising, under the weeping willow here".
"I thank you brother angler, I would most gratefully essay a cast,
I would so like to catch a fish, before the opportunity is past"
No sooner said, than done, the gear was handed out,
and angler then essayed his cast, to the large and wary trout.


A perfect rise! A perfect strike! and battle then commenced,
and anglers blood went rushing, as the old rod strongly tensed,
the line sang loudly in the wind, as did the old and creaking reel,
as angler plied them with the greatest skill, the mighty fish to
creel.
Long minutes passed, though time stood still, the fish made one last
run,
with the greatest care the net was readied, as the fish was not yet
done.
Shaking with excitement, but still with perfect nerves, and icy calm,
the fish was landed then at last, and lay there cradled in the anglers
palm.


"My friend I thank you heartily, capturing such a prize has made my
day,
Do me the honour of your company a while, as we wander on our way.
Your gear is old but solid, and your flies are perfect works of art,
tell me something of yourself, or better yet come sup with me, before
we part".
"Right gladly will I do so Sir, congratulations on your lovely fish,
I am glad that I could help a little, in helping you to gain your
fervent wish".
The sun sinks ever lower in the summer sky, and at last the day then
ends,
its final rays, illuminating strangers of the morning, now forever
friends.

Tight Lines! ~ Mike Connor