To Remain
•
moonlight
keeps dark at bay
pressing in
as night wind stirs
like mocking breath
of life now lost
to light-less realm
beyond the chill
encircling me
empty
to remain
no emotion
save grief
apples spilled
on broken stair
where rail eluded
grasping hand
no voice came
to futile cry
those lips
will not know again
sweet fruit
nor love
• • •
rob kistner © 2008
•
warm
familiar
comfortable in my palm
my fingers wrap natural cork
index raised
gauging line tension
precision brings the willow’d shaft
high above my shoulder
flexing expectantly
a flick of my wrist
and the rod arcs forward
increasing the pressure
on my fingertip
as it bends ahead
urgently
seeking release
then
a careful pluck
like a string
on a guitar
it is launched
the ultralight lure
golden at line’s end
sails silent
into the squinting summer sun
with a subtle plick
the barbless hunter disappears
slipping ‘neath the sparkle
of the undulating steam
seductively
I retrieve the bait
with quickening pulse
eagerly visualizing
anticipating the strike
patience draws the offering
alluringly
dancing ever nearer
I long for the sharp
powerful tug
for the slender thread
unreeled before me
to rise
and dart away
in a sliver of silver spray
for my heart to jump
as a proud trout
breaks water
victim to my seduction
in this moment
mind focused
breath steady
senses heightened
awaiting sudden contact
I reflect
there is a simple truth in fishing
as in life
the thrill of possibility
can be as rich
as the reward
• • •
rob kistner © 2008
• photorendering entitled “The Strike” by: rob kistner © 2008
A hike into the Cascade Mountains, in image and verse.
Author’s note: It was a beautiful day for hiking here in Oregon, so I made a trek into the Mt. Hood wilderness — camera in hand, notebook and pen in my shirt pocket. This is my day, shared with you here, in image and verse. The photo is a shot of Lost Lake, through the trees, with Mt. Hood in reflection.
•
my footfalls
drum the root chambers of the old growth
each step cushioned
by centuries of needle-drop
in this ancient forest
enjoying the rise and fall
twist and turn of the trail
I amble
feeling the smoothness of my walking stick
clutched comfortably in my right hand
an audible stir in the treetops
wind
wafting down the western Cascade slopes
invigorating
the steady rhythm of my footsteps
hypnotic
rounding a bend
brushing through waist-high fern
I crest a knoll
and stop
mesmerized
light drifts down dreamlike
filtered by the woodland canopy
settling golden around me
a power
a presence
is tangible
a breeze enfolds me
intoxicating
the scent of living earth
an addictive bouquet
cedar
Douglas fir
Ponderosa pine
moss
bark
loam
and ionized mountain air
my spirit rises
my being – weightless
I float away
lifted into oneness
wholeness
epiphonal
suddenly
I’m startled
a young doe bounds onto the trail
standing proud
golden in the light
she considers me briefly
then disappears
quick as a stolen glance
quiet as passing time
my eyes dart to find her
here then there
in vain
I catch a glimpse
silver-blue
shimmering
where massive trees part
wind-blown mountain water
crisp
clear
it sparkles
Lost Lake
the namesake of this trail
my reason for this trek into wilderness
climbing a boulder at trail’s edge
I sit
pull my legs under me
lean forward
elbows on knees
I face lake-ward
basking in the energy
of this natural cathedral
I become very still
listening
gazing
just being
in rapt wonderment
at the magnificence that surrounds me
this place is my church
this moment is my prayer
I am in touch with my soul
with the eternal
• • •
rob kistner © 2007