A poem about fly-fishing inspired by Bela Bartok
Poem by Jed Feffer
Greensboro, Vermont
April, 2021
The Water’s Violin
The grass is unmowed and swaying;
The currents of the river are clouded in bugs.
In hand you begin with a vision of upraised hands and heart;
You have yet to slip over smooth rocks,
or cast on cast onto water.
Your fly rod is the quick motion of a fiddle;
Back and forth back and forth
fly line swings across the sky,
and your eye is on the dimple
of a trout making rings in the water.
Back and forth back and forth
fly line swings across the sky,
and your eye is on the dimple
of a trout making rings in the water.
Each movement of your body swaying
is the upturned song of the violin.
If you could only stay that way
poised above a feeding trout in churning water.
The world beneath the water keeps you fishing.
It tightens around your thighs.
Bugs flick at your eyes;
The sun lights the gravel.
Walking the stream always has hazards.
Holes for your feet to fall in;
Strong currents that want to upend you.
It tightens around your thighs.
Bugs flick at your eyes;
The sun lights the gravel.
Walking the stream always has hazards.
Holes for your feet to fall in;
Strong currents that want to upend you.
You blend in trying to present the fly
as if it descended unimpeded
onto the water’s surface.
And though the water’s violin keeps bowing
You must leave now;
Your rod slung over your shoulder;
The sun coloring the shadows of the trees.
You must leave now;
Your rod slung over your shoulder;
The sun coloring the shadows of the trees.
A painting based on a photo of the author fishing
Karl Eric Leitzel based on a photo by Jed Jeffer
Painting by Karl Eric Leitzel based on a photo by the author.
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