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By Anthony Naples, on September 12th, 2010
A note of explanation: For anybody just checking in for the first time, I am in the middle of a project to write a fly fishing poem everyday, during the month of September. I just figured you might be wondering what is going on. After this little project is complete- we’ll probably return to our regularly scheduled programming.
 The Release by Anthony Naples Poem #12: Elegy
the house was tucked into a bend of the creek,
white, small, nothing special
sixty feet or so from the bank and from
the weed beds where trout hid from the full shine of the sun
and where fish would come up as dusk broke
the back of the sky, exposing the scarlet sun
where fish came up to chase the caddis
that struggled through the silver ceiling of water
an overpass now soars above and across that place,
a highway now cuts across the broken scarlet sky and casts its shadows on
the weed beds where trout hid from the full shine of the sun
I knew a person that lived in that house for a while,
and I fished there once on an evening
when fish came up to chase the caddis
that struggled through the silver ceiling of water
By Anthony Naples, on September 6th, 2010
 Trout in the Grass by Anthony Naples Poem #6: Watching Trout in the Grass
I don’t recall the month,
though it was winter I’m sure of that.
A dusting of snow on the stubbled, browning fields,
but the air didn’t smell like winter yet.
Maybe it was only late fall.
So, to be out fishing for trout
was not unreasonable, not yet (that would come later).
But we were alone when we stepped out of the truck,
and we were alone when we rigged up our fly rods,
and alone as we stood and looked at the stream,
which had grown fat overnight and had outgrown its banks.
I don’t remember if I caught a fish that day
but I do remember the trout as they
crept carefully out among the leaves of grass,
to mingle with the terrestrial life, rooting and searching
in the flooded lawn.
By Anthony Naples, on September 3rd, 2010
 Rising Trout by Anthony Naples Well, I started this month long, Poem-a-Day thing today (the 3rd of September, 2010). For the sake of neatness, I decided to get three poems out today, so that I was on-track. So, here is the third installment of the Daily Fly Fishing Poem. For the rest of the month it will be just one a day.
Poem #3: The Meaning of Mayflies
From glints and bits of foam,
unlikely pale angels ascend
to emerge scattered and briefly incandescent.
Leaning upstream, shrugging off cold water
a fish tips up, dimples the water,
and whispers the meaning of mayflies.
By Anthony Naples, on February 2nd, 2010
 Trout #2 by Anthony Naples, done on iPod Touch, post-processing in Photoscape This spring I took a trip to Yellow Creek in Bedford County, PA. I caught this one particular brown trout that had spectacular blue spots. I had never really noticed these before on brown trout. Since then, I notice this feature all the time – it seems relatively commonplace. Why did I notice these blue spots on that fish, when I’d probably seen them a hundred times before, on a hundred other fish? I don’t have the answer. I don’t know if it reflects only on me or on human nature in general. But, apparently my power to ignore what’s right in front of me can be impressive. What else haven’t I noticed?
By Anthony Naples, on January 24th, 2010
Don’t worry – I’m not going to turn into an all fly fishing art website. And I use the term “art” lightly in my case. But I am having fun with the iPod touch and SketchBook Mobile. So I figured that I might as well share. So here is another sketch.
 Trout #1 by Anthony Naples
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