Gone Fishing

Gone Fishing

A good man went fishing today. Picking up his rod and tackle, he walked the uphill path. Through the green tunnel of the old growth hardwood forest, Skeet could hear the rippling brook and see the light at the end the path. A good man was going fishing.


He waded into rejuvenating water and cast his line skipping the fly into the still pool behind a rugged boulder. The streams’s cascading waters returning balance to his stance. A forgotten pep returned to his step as he waded along the rocks of the bubbling flow. The effects of aging washing away and youth returning to his footing and gait.


As the warm sun peeked above the hardwood and cedar tree tops, a familiar silhouette appeared at the ox bow bend. Skeet rubbed his eyes and a smiled erupted across his face. There was a familiar fisherman on the water today. Decades of spring thaws have come and gone since he cast a line with the man on the river.


Skeet was a young man again. He ran through the cool waters and towards the silhouette at the oxbow bend. His thoughts transported back in time to when he first cast a line with the man along the blue green rivers of western Pennsylvania. The men stood smiling and casting as the fish jumped snatching the flys at the end of the lines. Skeet and his brother Don are fishing again.


Years of spring thaws will transform into the slow meandering summer flow before Skeet will see a few more fisherman wading into the brook. Walking through the tunnel of old growth hardwoods, old men will experience the rejuvenating waters, they will cast the lines and smile. The brook will ripple by as the McIntyre boys join their fathers fishing in the blue green waters flowing through the old growth forest.


A good man went fishing today. Long, may he fish.