among scattered clouds orange sun looms
        still high in the southwestern sky
its orange light bathing orange sandstone boulders
        jumbled in shallow emerald waters

from high above we first spy the pond
        this jewel among the mountain peaks
an beatific island floats at it center
        and dark green spruce crowd its banks

following sea blue blazes and stacked stone cairns
        we descend the grey granite ridge
tired legs and tired lungs
        still recovering from the grueling climb

at the shores of the alpine pond
        we gaze over its glistening waters
delighted by the flittering schools of chub at our feet
        and promising splashes farther out

after shedding our day packs
        we zip off the bottoms of convertible hiking pants
and replace hiking boots with water shoes
        eager for a fishing adventure

we piece together fly rods
        and rig lines and reels
doing our best to ignore the swarming black flies
        as we assemble leaders and tippets

I tie on a hare’s ear wet fly
        with soft partridge hackle
wading out over slippery rocks
        to a stable spot from which to cast

the next two hours will see many casts
        a few overeager chub brought to hand
and six magnificent, extraordinarily beautiful, elegantly exquisite — did I say, magnificent?
        Tumbledown Pond brook trout