Once, in a yellow wood where a stream flowed,
I met a rough-hewn, white-haired gentleman
who beckoned, whispered, "This way if you can.
The fishing is better upstream.
For awhile, I listened to the murmur
of water washing worn rocks, and thought
down's easier. But not for what I sought.
The fishing was better upstream.
© Rodney Franklin (AMPAW@aol.com)