a riverman. a rod maker.
a fly fisherman, forever waist deep in trout water
in liquid alpine
throwing dries. rising fish. hoping to get dragged under
if I’m lucky. in crystal blue. green
in the company of pine. cedar. skies on fire. gray drizzles
a split-cane wand. the compass home
a strike. the silk line. pointing west.
Jimmy Watts makes rods out of his home in Bellingham, where his window looks out at little Lost Creek (…good luck finding it).