THE BRONZE

Before I leave the river to the winter
I must mention the bronze.
I know precisely
where he holds
and the exact lane of his feeding,
having tried for him three days.
It is an honorable use of time.
There is no certainty in it.
He had the advantage of his element. 
I had to learn his habits.
It is something to spend time that way,
not so much humbling but flowing,
three days, not all day but
hours I would say,
unconscious of manhood.
The third day it was raining,
windy, the river was
deserted of men. Perhaps it was the storm,
the ruffled
water, the pitted lens that made him
careless under canvas
of hard rain.
He came to me hard,
a stretched weblike crossing,
revived a minute and was gone.
Years ago I dreamt
a glowing fish like that
when suffering granted me such light. 
I touched the rainbow
in the pelting rain and ran the arc of fin.
Then I left the river to crows
and simple fish.

2001 Hot Creek