The Cedar River

 For Mark Haverland

You bring the Red Devil back fast,
left wrist whirling in the circle
as the line fills the spool—
back from the water near reeds
where at the end of a long arc
it landed with a pop and leapt toward you.
It zags, jerks, darts, describes
a progress so quick
no nerves could catch it. Then
a tail-swirl ruffles the surface . . .
and another pass, so high
the fins break through.