The cows watch from the high point of the river,
bulls, even buffalo are curious to see what the strange creatures are doing
in the middle of the Madison,
wading, some floating with guides.
Some are families with spin-casting poles from the ‘80s,
one has Mickey Mouse on the reel.
There is an old fly fisherman wearing an old fly fishing vest,
cussing at the young girls in inner tubes (he could care less about bare skin)
teenagers with beer cans some full, some empty,
some even fall into the river.
One can cuts the head off of a turtle,
one becomes a home for a small brown trout.
“Fun-goers” the old man says out of the corner of his mouth.
An eagle dips for a meal and brings up a whitefish,
his children screech from a mile away.
Everyone is a little disappointed.