And Only Another Fly Fisherman . . .

And only another fly fisherman . . .

I’m missing the breeze in my face, the glare off the water blinding my view. My fly rod teeters in my hand as I make for the water’s edge. I always look back, making sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Then I enter the water and wade into its swiftness.

It’s always the same, but not always Montana. And there’s the difference. For the latter is big sky country. Where the land meets the sky and continues forever. And only a wise eye knows why, where the greens, blues and browns flow swiftly and everything merges into one. And together we walk . . . And only another fly fisherman would know why?


Dan Hanosh
Dreams are yours to Share


My Books: The World Outside My Window, AuthorHouse, 2004
Soon to come, Sleepless Nights


Links: Dreams Are Yours To Share
Warriors and Wars
The Moon Also Rises
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Dan Hanosh poemhunter.com
Dan’s Room 2 Write

Copyright © 2007 by Dan Hanosh. All rights reserved.

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