Thursday, April 12, 2007

Day's End: A Poetry Thursday Poem (and a Friday addition)

I'm going to try this again. This week’s Poetry Thursday writing exercise is to “borrow” a line from another Poetry Thursday author and incorporate it into a poem. The line I borrowed, “just when the firefly reflections move further out over the water,” is from Dana Guthrie Martin’s poem, “Mother at the Lake (1971).” The photo to the left taken in Northern Ontario, August 1992.

Day’s End

The wind dies with the day.
I reel in my line,
storing the rod on top of the gunnels,
and pick up my paddle,
digging it deep into the water.
With a steady rhythm,
I propel the bow
toward a chorus of frogs.
Reaching the shore
I pull the boat up onto the bank
just when the firefly reflections
move further out over the water.

Friday Morning Addition: Below is a similar "prose piece"about fishing at dusk and fireflies. This was posted in my blog on July 18, 2005.
Fishing at Dusk
Granddad’s old Browning fly-rod, nine and a half feet, nicely lays the line out. Casting next to the lily pads, the fly drops just inches from the dark green leaves. In a second, the water swirls and I yank, as the line dives below. Pulling just enough on the line to keep the fish from getting it tangled in the lily pads, I work the fish. He comes to the surface, jumping completely out of the water before diving deep. “He’s a nice one,” I think. Keeping the line taut, I allow him to swim back in forth in the deep water, slowly luring him toward the canoe. He begins to tire and I pull him closer and into the net. He’s not as big as I’d thought, but still a nice fish. I remove the hook from his lips and gently place him back into the lake. Wasting no time, he dives deeply into the waters as I look around. The western sky is pink. The waxing moon hangs low in the southeast. Up in the meadows above the lake, fireflies light the night. It’s time to paddle back to the truck. Driving home, a firefly strikes the windshield. A final flameout, glowing green ooze slides down the glass slowly fading out.


  1. That's a nice vignette, Sage, and lovely photo too.

  2. nize! I was imagining the sound of the frogs.

  3. This is beautiful, and I am honored to see my line snuggled into the world your poem has created.

  4. very evocative, this reminds me of when I lived by Lake Malawi...

  5. The photo goes well with the poem.
    You write poetry as well as prose..

    For me this has much deeper meaning than the obvious one.

  6. I think that I've lived this: "I propel the bow / toward a chorus of frogs."

    I did three this week, one of them being Dana's. Good lines, she's got.

  7. What a perfect line to end this poem. Sage you have another winner here.

  8. I agree with Pat, it is another winner. I would have liked it even better if I knew how to swim, I think. The image of being away from the shore in a flimsy boat nearly made me hyperventilate.

  9. I've always felt the action of fly fishing is poetry in and of itself.

  10. Thanks Scotty, Diane & Peri

    Dana, your poem was wonderful, the fireflies drew me right in!

    Crafty Green, where is Lake Malawi?

    Gautami, thanks!

    Rathabile, thanks. I love the background to your blog--the beauty of the African landscape

    Thanks Pat,

    Murf, get yourself a life jacket--or taking swimming lessons

    Ed, I agree

  11. I prefer floaty wings. I'm not keen on lessons after I took them as a kid and the Down's Syndrome boy advanced passed the tadpole level while I was asked to repeat it.

  12. "How to become a famous writer before you're dead: Your words in print and your name in lights".

    Written by Ariel Gore.

  13. Fishing, for me, has never been about catching fish. This post kind of captures that.

    Michele sent me,


  14. love dusk and fireflies and July!

  15. Beautiful! I moved to a new town and state a year ago. Apparently, the fireflies didn't come with me. It's the one thing this place is lacking!

  16. Murf, Floaty wings? What a fashion statement, do you have different colored ones to match your swimsuit?

    non-Angel, is this a hint?

    Mr. A, you're right, fishing is just another excuse to be outdoors and enjoy creation and if you get enough for dinner, you're blessed twice

    Karen, one of the things Michigan has going for it is a large number of fireflies

    Surcie, sorry to hear that about your new home--when I lived west, on the edge of a desert, there were no fireflies either. Here, come June, they'll be everywhere

  17. Last time I was here, I missed out the fishing part. Glad I could catch it now.


  18. Sage you really are getting good at this poetry stuff! I really enjoyed that one.

  19. That is a beautiful shot! Taken in 1992? Not digitally I assume. Twice as nice!

    Micheke sent me,


  20. Gautami, I added the last story on Friday morning

    Deana, thanks!

    Mr. A--the picture was originally a slide (proably Kodrachrome 64 ASA) and converted into a digital on a slide copier that attaches to the lens of a Nikon D-80.

  21. You craft such gorgeous images with your pen and your lens. I have half a mind to grab a fishing rod and head for the river right now. I know of just the right spot...

  22. Beautiful photo and goes well with the poem!

  23. Nice picture. Reminds me of North America.

  24. That reminds me of a poem I had to recite at Sunday School 'Oh what is as rare as a day in June' Lowell i think. I want to be on that lake.
    Michele sent me . unwittingly I jumped the queue!