Scott Simpson · Poetry

Trout Stream

A Hush Between Seasons · printed pages 25–26

The original line breaks, stanza spacing, and placement are preserved. Long lines scroll horizontally.

Source page 25

TROUT STREAM

In the place where the water bends

beneath the willow,

you crouch,

hands cold

but steady,

watching the ripples

for one flash of silver.

It is not the catching

but the watching—

the way your breath

slows to match the current,

the way the stone

presses against your knee

like memory.

This is where your thoughts

clear themselves,

where silence becomes

something you can listen to.

No line cast.

No hook.

Only the stream,

and the fish,

and your stillness

waiting

Source page 26

for nothing

but the world

to go on being beautiful.

SCOTT SIMPSON

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