I have visions of cutthroat trout;
Of crimson bellies fighting the strong
Cold current to the death.
I shall dream tonight meaningless
Round and oblong dreams, swirling
In pools of righteousness, and backwaters
Of silken, black, careening emptiness,
Until the stream sweeps me down to the lake,
Or until I struggle upward, always higher,
To the spillway at the base of the dam.
Gary Witt
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/trout-fishing/
