Let the old shadows make room for the new!
The sun angles toward the jagged snow caps
where old shadows make room for the new,
and the angler pauses to gather his wraps,
and to gaze at the gizzard shad huddled
just below the stem-river stones. Perhaps
their hard darkening reprieve has muddled
some latter day prospects for the gazer
above them. Around him the shadows–scuttled
by dusk–scowl and flee. Still, the angler
lingers a bit longer, to savor his view
of slowly fading fish, to remember
all the ancient lures he’d used to subdue
all the ancient schools. Even then, he scarcely knew
how the old shadows make room for the new.