John Bush

FISHING ON THE AMICALOLA


He spent the day fishing on the Amicalola River
Just under the steel bridge bridge.

At dawn he walked in deep--in his waders.
The water was cold—the current grabbed
his thighs, the mist hung like a whisper.

He saw trout strike the top of water and
Mayflies gather at times
White in the sunlight like ash.

The trout hit the space between
The water and the air
Like the space to us between trees,
Between stars, in absent names —
A space like the shadow that slews beneath the
Water behind the smooth stones
That are as old as the earth.

The cars over head hiss on the wet pavement,
Pass, and are gone.
He casts into a still pool, dark and green —
Deeper than the forest around him.

Then a boil, a splinter of light,
And a Rainbow Trout like brilliant silver
Cracks the surface, breaks into the light,
But this time coming out of the water and
Into the lean wind,
Curved and loosening against the hold.


John Bush is Associate Director and Associate Editor of the Words Work Network, a project at Web Del Sol. He is also the Director of Split Shot: A Journal of Literary Art and the former Chairperson for The Young Georgia Writers and the Writing in the Schools programs in Georgia. His poems have appeared in Conspire, 2River View, Disquieting Muses, The Best of Pif off-line and on-line, and The Paumanok Review, among others. He has poems forthcoming in Del Sol Review.