There’s a waterfall at the trail’s end, rainbows
splashed out of the pool. Here we are,
looking out over a precipice, posing,
hoping the colors come through.
All those photos tucked away,
taped, forgotten. There we were,
not looking what we look like, younger,
gathered around a tree. We appear
happy to have arrived, perhaps just smiling
for the camera. Turning the pages,
looking back as down a tunnel
at what we may have felt then: hero
shots, the tarpon from the Keys, striper
from SF Bay, the Klamath steelhead,
Alaska salmon, trout after trout
after trout.
Clicking the shutter, filling the album.
Keeping what fades bright for memory.
Here, some recent ones not yet taped in place.
We almost look like we look. Again, smiling.
– Poem by Keith Shein
