My Human Disguise.
A thousand years ago the river teemed
With more trout than any fisherman dreamed.
The Ojibwe could catch them with their hands —
Threw back those too small to feed four or five.
The rivers, fields, forests, lakes, and wetlands
Came from good dreaming to keep them alive.
They had little fear of spirit danger —
The wolf, mountain lion, bobcat, and bear.
Only men released the devil’s anger.
After a death the devil wasn’t there.
In waders, I can stand hip deep and cast
For hours and nothing will look at the bait.
One lucky night I’ll hook a fish at last.
The water rushing past me doesn’t wait.
