truth is like
that full-grown rainbow trout
you somehow caught
when you were six
impressed grandpa
that it did
he’s laughed up a storm
stopping only because he wanted another drink
from his can of beer
you holding on to it for dear life
as it wiggles and squirms
and shimmers
for freedom
gasping
for air
Specks and Fragments 
oh heavens…what a deep and dark post…in my youth, long ago , I went fishing..caught a big fish, saw the suffering, pretended not to see it, left it to die on the bank of lake…threw it back. I still feel so guilty about that.
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…the not-so-fond memories of being taught how to put worms on the hook still linger…
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Trout Fishing in America…
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yup…
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Powerful.
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thanks
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I had to come back to this and no doubt will again. It’s one of the most lovely and profound poems I’ve read in a long time.
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thank you for the quite kind words. š
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Just lovely.
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š
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Actually quite fitting for this morning…
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not the best morning i’ve ever had
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It will be interesting to see how much “grasping for air” freedom has to do in this country now…
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definitely time for collective reflection
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Like Chris I found myself coming back to this. So stark and immediate.
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