The Highland Stream

When April showers bless the hills
Take yourself and your fly rod away
Where anvil clouds court the skies
Find streams flowing clear, like Tanqueray

Go sit by the pool and watch for a while
Absorb the beauty of light
Feel the spring squalls of sleet on your face
And watch for a swirl as you might

A flash of turquoise blurs upstream
A Dipper appears on a stone
A Wagtail flirts but soon she is gone
A Martin exposes his home

Cast your eyes on the water and study the flow
Look out for a place of respite
Imagine how the water will play with the fly
Hoping to rouse a fish in your plight

Find virgin gravel and position your felts
Spey the line out over the stones
Let the fly swim through like a shrimp in the sea
Tease a Springer from his transient home

Working down to the tail, I catch sight of a fin
Has he just come into the pool?
Knowing his stealth I'm allowed a couple of casts
No time for a soft rod or arrogant fool

The fly traverses at just the right speed
A peaty flash gives a pull on the line
A hump and a boil then all goes quiet
This great fish never will be, or should be all mine

by Mike Leach