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Habs, My Buddha of bass fishermen
We begin loving fishing, we then marvel at the big fish, and we end loving fishing.
Habs was so observant there was no way I could get close when I met him, but I understand people who really see. A year later he stumbled from the surf exhausted, moments after me. Standing in the surfline, that second of understanding, will be with me every step this November on BI.
I sent this to Habs on Sept. 18th.
Once Upon The Water
Quiet through the sand along the cut
The soft crunch of my steps, increasing stride
The stars are close tonight, but
No moon, last outgoing hours of tide
and the voice of moving water, near
By, for I have quieted the world of work
and people in my mind, and so begin to hear,
the distant water noises in the dark.
Stripers247 a.m. trailing blue light, crashing bait.
I stand waste deep in flat calm ocean
Fish breaking at my feet, like trout if you wait.
The fishing voices within begin
First whispering to myself, Stripers everywhere,
Calming, for my first lineside fly cast ever!
Now screaming skyward at my luck, YES YES,I dare
Let fly new bought Lefty’s Deceiver.
The crash is mine and I am stripped.
From books to reality and back, battle on
Leaders part, hooks straighten, fast learning, fish lipped
Madly laughing, release, catch, release, catch, done
Water slapping shore where dinner “keeper” has lain
The world is breathing, and I too breath again
Thanks Habs
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Hybrid Mode
