Fly Fish with Mel: To Fish or Not to Fish? That is the question...

While going through the chapters of 'Rod Rage', a book by Rhea Topping, I came across a poem that sums up what fly fishing embodies. I hope that by reading the poem, you'll get to appreciate the unexpressed reasons why each of us, in the fraternity of the long rodders, chose this as our recreation.

Out Fishing

A feller isn't thinking mean,
Out fishing,
His thoughts are mostly good and clean,
Out fishing,
He doesn't mock his fellow men,
Or harbour any grudges then;
A feller's at his finest when,
Out fishing,
The rich are comrades to the poor,
Out fishing,
All are brothers of a common lure,
Out fishing,
The urchin with his pin and string,
Can chum with millionaire and king;
Vain pride is a forgotten thing,
Out fishing,
A fella gets a chance to dream,
Out Fishing.
He learns the beauties of the stream out fishing.
And he can wash his soul in air
That isn't foul with selfish care,
And relish plain and simple fare
Out fishing,
A fella has no time for hate,
Out fishing,
he isn't eager to be great
Out fishing,
He isn't thinking thoughts of self,
But he's always just himself,
Out fishing.
[A] feller's glad to be a friend, out fishing.
[A] helping hand he'll always lend, out fishing.
The brotherhood of rod and line
An'sky and stream is always fine;
Men come real close to God's design, out fishing.