Casting From Chinnapatkin Bridge


Morning

I am becoming an old man
on the slopes of a tall mountain.
Counting stars, rising no higher
than the Chinnapatkin in Spring.

Noon

Upstream is no utopia.
Do not struggle against currents.
Forget spawning; breathe,
breathe noon air and die.

Evening

Upcountry leaves fall along
banks of the Chinnapatkin.
Swept into mainstream, they
rot while slowly sinking
into its depths.

Night

There are no limits
on the Chinnapatkin:
Take what you will;
return if you wish.

John Horvath, Jr.





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