Swimming with Trout

The sun fingers and prickles me;

The dock creaks gray,

Floating on algaed styrofoam.

A silvery leap spatters

This drowsy morning,

Now tail-thrashed alert.

The trout flee weedbeds,

And sunken-log mysteries

For spring-fed depths.

My toes curve over the edge

Of wave-slapped wood,

And I dive,

In an arc,

Into their current,

Plunging below

Tepid-safe waters,

Desiring mute cool green

Until it presses

Hard on my breast,

And I push upward,

Bursting into white air,

Raining diamonds.

Credit: Leaping Trout by Winslow Homer, Warren Collection—William Wilkins Warren Fund, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston


    1. Catherine Hamrick

      Thank you, Dr. M. Even as you run hither and thither, your encouragement always makes my day. We need to Skype! Really!

      I am enjoying all the great info on both your blogs!

      Your across-the-big-pond friend, CH

      P.S. Readers, Dr. M. shares interesting insights, especially on health, way of being, and world affairs. Check it out: http://mustaphatahir.com/

      I always benefit from being informed. Also, look for Dr. Mustapha Tahir’s comments (UK) on LinkedIn.

    1. Catherine Hamrick

      Hi Karen. I’m so glad you like it. Any poetry book is down the road, if at all. I do not have much experience in the genre. But it is fun to play around. I will write a catch-up email. I missed your class!

    1. Dan Hise

      With the Tour de France coming up, I will borrow some of its jargon and say that your creation deserves more than an “A”. It is “beyond category.”

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