A Great Lake . . .
The angler and artist and author has gone off toward high cliffs of layered shale. Oak and maple leaves blow down the vertical faces of stone and enter flow. Fish of steel have returned and reside now in the stream set against the crooks and curves of the geologic foundation.
Fish in silhouette appear, some poised along submerged ledges, others nestled in nests of coalesced autumn leaves.
Fish of thirty inches — pale green, silvered and spotted, others cast in iridescent black and purple — all fresh from another year in Lake Erie, halt and go through these runs and pools and seams.
Downstream, a lake the size of the sea stretches out to where the horizon runs horizontal blue.
Orchards and vineyards along the coast can provide refreshment.
Here it is beside a great lake.
— rPs 11 15 2016
Postscript: In Memory of Christian Hand, poet, chef, droogie, born fifty years ago on this date in 1966.