| Viceroys And Monarchs |
- The presumptive fly fisherman
Composed, posed, and poised
Just passed the river bank
Had decided on the spot
To lay his Viceroy Monarch idea
On the end of his line
In that perfect spot of calm
Where the shade lay
Swirled turbulence abounded
Barely seen on the surface
Yet rushing by below
As the old lunker waited
Not knowing his end of the line
A perfectly tied Rio Grand King
Lay on the end of a line
Wielded by natures usurper
A perfect cast laid down
Our little fly floated slowly by
Where it caught the old ones eye
But to the chagrin of the caster
Passed by untouched and unharmed
As it slowly sank downstream
When after stretching taught
It's leader raised it to the surface
And the old fish laughed to himself
For despite the ripples on the surface
That distorted his view
His experience in this war
Had taught him to be leery
Of anything tied to a leader
That refused to try and escape
To take flight anew and be free
And that rippled vision
Standing in the shallows
So assured of his skills
Was just another fool
Who thought he knew nature
Yet could not see past the surface
Into the depths of the old fishes eyes
Who had seen this game before
