Some thoughts on fly-fishing...

Late last year I bought a very nice 6 weight flyrod from Harry Briscoe at the Hexagraph Fly Rod Company (www.hexagraph.com). These rods look like bamboo but are made of solid graphite. Packaged with the rod was Yeats' poem along with the following note from Harry: " In the mid-1950's my father took me to the mountains of northern New Mexico, and there in a small arroyo, I caught my first 'little silver trout' on a fly. Though I did not realize it then, that trout, like Aengus' trout, became the beautiful and mysterious object of what has been, and what surely will be, a life-long search. I see her every time I go fishing. I feel her presence in every one of her kind that fate and my good fortune bring to the end of my line. I have not caught her yet, but I have come close. I will keep chasing her because the pursuit is an adventure that takes me to exotic places, both far-away and close to home; places that bring me contentment and happiness. She has introduced me to many wonderful things, and many times she has provided for me those apples of silver and gold. But, as well as I know her, she remains a mystery. Now, I hope I never really catch her...but I want to hold her hands." Thank you Harry for lifting this poem from the wall of an old lodge in Ireland. The poem and your thoughts hit very close to home.