Seattle Poem 2: “Salmon Fishing”

The river still runs at night

When the salmon sleep with eyes

Wide open. Their silvers flash

Amid the stones in the stream.

As I wander on the trail, I yearn

To have them in my hands.

I kneel and watch how still

They are in the cool rapids

Before plunging my hands into the depths.

Unsurprisingly, they slip away,

Which makes me wonder if

They were just illusions

I made in the moonlight.

The waters clear and shadows stretch

Where I thought I held

The fish for a moment.

The gloaming digs into me

As if I, too, were just a dream

That someone has tried to reach…