Fishing McGee

Two pick-up trucks,
parked close
like horses or old friends
amongst acres of open land,
sagebrush and fences.
Open and owned,
leased to ranchers 
so the cows can roam.
Cattle guards always on duty.
Let us pass.

Barb wire fences,
barbless hooks,
stoney bottomed
creek beds, sandy brooks,
spinners like bullets
tear through water.
Two creeks converge
Convict and McGee,
before spilling into
Lake Crowley.

Across the meadow as
the creek meanders,
backwashed bends against
the flow turning round.
Time enough for old anglers,
down stream, beyond the current.
Thought bubbles rising
like a mad trout. A
mental photograph, still hear
his laugh, see the fish he caught.

And then the long
walk out.
Crossing creeks,
views of granite
and snow capped peaks.
Mammoth Mountain Range
still looks the same.
Some things don’t change.

2252346E-18A3-4F3A-8336-3801978C15E6

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