I paint the river
as your breath
your voice
as the world saying goodbye
a tribute to you
The fishing was good, dad
you pulled up your first
Dolly Varden
at dawn your smile
I wanted them all on your line
magic fish
your eyes scanned the water
with wonder.
We shared that silver
it was yours as much as mine
I hooked it
you brought it in
It told me
you were dying
I looked away my eyes full
aware always aware I'd remember
I still cry dad,
still have that bit of twisted line
that held the fish on.

By the Corbyhawk herself