Fishing on the Susquehanna in July
I have never been fishing on the Susquehanna,
or on any river, for that matter,
to be perfectly honest.
Not in July or any month have I had the pleasure
-- if it is a pleasure --
of fishing on the Susquehanna.
I am more likely to be found
in a quiet room like this one --
a painting of a woman on the wall,
a bowl of tangerines on the table --
trying to manufacture the sensation
of fishing on the Susquehanna.
There is little doubt that others have been
fishing on the Susquehanna,
rowing upstream in a wooden boat,
sliding the oars under the water then raising them
to drip in the light.
But the nearest I have ever come to
fishing on the Susquehanna
was one afternoon in a museum in Philadelphia,
when I balanced a little egg of time in front of a painting
in which that river
curled around a bend
under a blue cloud-ruffled sky,
dense trees along the banks,
and a fellow with a red bandana sitting in a small, green flat-bottom boat
holding the thin whip of a pole.
That is something I am unlikely ever to do,
I remember saying to myself
and the person next to me.
Then I blinked and moved on
to other American scenes
of haystacks,
water whitening over rocks,
even one of a brown hare
who seemed so wired with alertness
I imagined him springing right out of the frame.
--Billy Collins
I have never been fishing on the Susquehanna,
or on any river, for that matter,
to be perfectly honest.
Not in July or any month have I had the pleasure
-- if it is a pleasure --
of fishing on the Susquehanna.
I am more likely to be found
in a quiet room like this one --
a painting of a woman on the wall,
a bowl of tangerines on the table --
trying to manufacture the sensation
of fishing on the Susquehanna.
There is little doubt that others have been
fishing on the Susquehanna,
rowing upstream in a wooden boat,
sliding the oars under the water then raising them
to drip in the light.
But the nearest I have ever come to
fishing on the Susquehanna
was one afternoon in a museum in Philadelphia,
when I balanced a little egg of time in front of a painting
in which that river
curled around a bend
under a blue cloud-ruffled sky,
dense trees along the banks,
and a fellow with a red bandana sitting in a small, green flat-bottom boat
holding the thin whip of a pole.
That is something I am unlikely ever to do,
I remember saying to myself
and the person next to me.
Then I blinked and moved on
to other American scenes
of haystacks,
water whitening over rocks,
even one of a brown hare
who seemed so wired with alertness
I imagined him springing right out of the frame.
--Billy Collins
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I might forget how to walk my adopted streets...but I always have your back brother