Old Brook Trout

 

Crossing a high alpine meadow on a reckless run,

racing a dark mountain storm to the sun,

fast stepping down a snow melt stream, cold and shiny,

I feel I’m living a dream, in this vast wilderness, I am so tiny,

my heart pulses strong, my soul swells and sings a silent running song,

my spirit sparkles like lightning in a thunder shower, I feel it in each wildflower,

and down in the valley where the snow melt pours out, like tears of joy and grief,

into a clean, dark lake, in its watery home swims an old brook trout,

oblivious to my human emotions, and sentimental notions,

under a now darkening sky, lazily rises for a newly hatched fly.