The Other Side

The river wild, current 
fierce against my legs, 
feet unsteady, I watch 
fish rising on the other 
side, too far to reach, 
each cast, line snatched, 
fly dragged downstream.

Water deep between us, 
there is no crossing over, 
though I am old now; 
sometimes clouds part, 
sun striking trout who 
leap, translucent, into 
crystal air   beckoning.