The Cathedral of Trees

January 24, 2020

I move through the cathedral of trees

to a place that both quiets and stirs my soul.

The ravens overhead ever in attendance

at this service they call home.


The choir sings their serene song:

the breeze whistling through the branches--

the harmony,

while the river rushing over the rocks--

the melody.


The trees give way to the sanctuary

and there I take in the shining, melodious waters

I offer up my penance, 

four-count casts in a series of perpetual hope 

for a rise not just for fish but in spirit.


A wise friend once told me

that once in a while you must sacrifice.

A fly to the rock gods, a fly to the tree gods,

a fly to the snagging stick in the hole.


I smile now if I get caught and tangled.

John was right. 

Sometimes after the sacrifice 

you move to a new hole, new water.

New opportunity.


When you start again, 

you’re a little wiser, a little more careful,

and you should be able to hook 

what you want to reel in. 




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