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By Anthony Naples, on September 28th, 2010
Daily Fishing Poem #26: BWO’s
Like the lost feathers of angel wings,
fluttering up and back to the sky,
or like the tiny larvae of rain clouds-
the olives emerge.
By Anthony Naples, on September 27th, 2010
 Fall Stream by Anthony Naples Daily Fly Fishing Poem #25: Everything Has Its Season
Born in late winter and populated with
fingers of trees still naked and grasping for the dull tin pie plate
that passes for the sun in that cold country, the season begins.
It begins with fly boxes fattened with
speculation, cabin fever and hope,
books with folded corners,
maps torn with folding and re-folding,
the click of a reel in the basement.
And then somehow the season ends
with a last trip, a last fish.
And with fly boxes thin and gaunt and
in need of filling.
By Anthony Naples, on September 26th, 2010
Daily Fly Fishing Poem #24: Catch and Keep
Crushed limestone gravel of
The anglers’ lot. Done for the day
and seventeen new fish sweep their tails behind my eyelids.
A mink, an osprey, a great blue heron,
maples that are beginning to think about winter.
It’s catch and release here.
But I’m leaving nothing behind.
By Anthony Naples, on September 25th, 2010
 Trout by Anthony Naples Daily Fly Fishing Poem #23: Beautiful Stream, No Fish
There is no escaping the conclusion
that all trout streams are liars–
hustlers with flashing liquid grins
whispering devious, sweet, gurgling fictions,
and selling trinkets of silver, blue, and red–
stolen from the fishes.
By Anthony Naples, on September 24th, 2010
Well folks, we had a scary storm and wind like you wouldn’t believe. As a result Casting Around headquarters was without electricity for a couple of days. But, I’m back! For the rest of the month of September, I will continue to keep the poems coming one a day. And I’ll make up for the days that were lost.
Daily Fly Fishing Poem #22: The Same as Sunfish
“It’s not like catching sunfish,” my
grandfather warned me the,
night before. And so it isn’t-
or so it hasn’t been,
except for when it is exactly
the same as catching sunfish.
By Anthony Naples, on September 22nd, 2010
 Voodoo Fish by Anthony Naples Daily Fly Fishing Poem #21: Some Trout
Some trout are like voodoo dolls,
standing in for something else.
Pierced and prodded, a means
to some secret end.
Or maybe like magic eight balls,
shaken to reveal an answer-
Yes, no, ask again later…
Some are containers to hold things
until a better time.
Some are fortune cookies cracked open
to reveal our futures and lucky numbers.
Others are fetishes,
others are trophies,
But some are just trout and
everything depends on these.
By Anthony Naples, on September 20th, 2010
 Red Rocks by Anthony Naples Daily Fly Fishing Poem #20: The Difference Between Searching and Finding
I turned the stream inside out like a pocket,
searching for things that I thought were in there.
But I only found a blue ribbon of sky,
slipping between the red rocks and dark ridges of pine,
a rusted-out car, an old stone wall, a pile of crumbling tin cans,
a patch of daffodils and an apple tree.
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