A Fishing Town
Summer heat waves added stress and strain to our corner of the world this August. I often scanned a cloudless sky. Usually, no moisture in sight.
Yet, on the river, a marvelous thing. Fishermen were not drought-watching, they were trout-watching.
Even inside the city limits of Norfork, our small town, I saw three people painting fish in a mural, changing the face of one of our streets. I immediately approved and pulled out my camera/phone.
No need to add a dance or sweetness to our fishing town, but people were adding it anyway. I parked the car and stared. Just stared at the mural. It cooled me down. A part of me wanted to hoot and holler!
No Better Place, No Better Way
Trout laugh here
in stone-cold water where wavelets
sing to one another. In and out of crevices,
the fish swirl under a chubby-faced moon,
flooding light onto the bosom of a night river.
Such goodness when the sun rises
and bleaches darkness from the sky.
Underwater, a rainbowed torpedo
pushes through the restless river.
In tin armor, it swishes turquoise
and pink streaks along its sides,
just above a white underbelly.
Like ink spewed on a blank page,
black spots bespatter back and fins.
Above water, the trout leaps, arches,
shakes its mane of silver spray.
Those in waders stop, look, listen.
The trout swims near a group
of leggy ones casting, chunking, cranking.
Then the fishermen
see it spring skyward like Pegasus.
Oh, the hooting and hollering!
by Pat Durmon
Fishing fun. I guess it has been here since the beginning of time. Maybe the opposite of work. Seems appropriate to share on Labor Day, 2021.
P.S. This poem can be found my book Push Mountain Road. See the link below.
Two photos of the new mural in Norfork, Arkansas. Photographs taken by Pat Durmon, August 2021.
Poetry Books by Pat Durmon