The Fly Fisher's Lover
by
Jill Powell


A Magnificance of Lines
the vector implied by a small cigar, contrasted against the shape of her
jaw
arcs of moving thighs, reflected, thin, dissappearing beneath the water
with subsequent, chosen steps......
an exploding path of crash and pounce formed by the twisting sliver "s"
of mighty pisces herself, risking revelation of her whereabouts for a
milli-second.
The sudden return of silence and undulating ribbons of riverlight.
"If you are good, they call you an angler".......
I sing the magnificience of her lines:
Each unpredictable windswept raven hair,
constant flow of sharpened spirit
through blue-black gaze, but most captivating of all,
the angles articulating from artistic arm to hand, extending into the
thinnest sword,
slicing the sunlight as the thread draws its ever new signatiure across
the sky...
	Would that these poor lines could do justice to the magnificence of
lines to
	which I am but a loving spectator,
	I wait to watch the snap, the zig, the zag the stretch and struggle, 
	collision of wills and wits between fisher and fish.....
	But I am as well content to anticipate line meeting line, magnificently

"If you are good they call you an angler...."
	Perhaps it is a name you give youself because you love the magnifience
of lines.....