Sultans of the Fly

From dreams
Of the lady in “Bronze”
With red and golden eyes
They rise
Before light
It matters not
If rain or snow
They zip their suits
To meet the freezing cold
They gather well-prepared gear
The long rod
The fireline spooled reel
A three-way swivel
A special cut bobber,
Fluorocarbon leader
And duck-feather fly
Across the black cold water
In white spray they go
To well known weed beds
Cuts and points
There’s no competition
There’s no one else around
In dawn’s first light
They load their rods
The bobber goes down
They are the Sultans of the Fly

Roy L. Nave
December, 2016