[by Michael Hill]
At daybreak,
the tall grass beaded
with silvery dew,
I crack open the cover
to a crisp, new page
of river and wade on in,
following along closely
as riffle, run, and pool
spill their stories,
each one a unique narrative
filled with boulders, overhanging branches
and undercut banks, but all flowing to the same conclusion:
the telltale riseform of a feeding trout,
its meaning rippling outward
into the morning,
where I grasp firmly,
strip out a bit more line,
and ready my cast.
Michael Hill’s poems have been published by Midwestern Gothic, Concho River Review, Verse Wisconsin, and Dos Gatos Press. He was a finalist in Garrison Keillor’s 2014 Love Letters contest, a call for poetry that drew more than 1,100 entries. He lives in Colorado.
