A Good New Fishing Rod

It leaned against the wall
where he could see it. Nurses
worked around it as they
plied their brisk mercies.

It leaned against the wall
and spoke of life resumed;
of hillsides gorsed and broomed
and dazzling lochs that lay

beyond the hills he knew,
teeming with noble trout,
and all he had to do
was get up and go out.

David Callin

If you have any comments on this poem, David Callin would be pleased to hear from you.