My Salmon

Thank you, Thank you, little Parr

for leaping on my maggot 

with the recklessness of youth,

in truth I was fishing for a grayling or a trout,

when I trotted out my waggler down the river.

When I hooked you I mistook you 

for a minnow.

Then I held you, said hello, 

returned you to the rushing flow-

Now, I shall name you SALMON.

Salmon’s what your parents were,

and Salmon you shall be

so when I chant the litany

of all the species I have caught,

ordered alphabetically,

after the golden red-finned Rudd

there you will be.

I have caught a Salmon.

I’ll hope that no-one ever asks

“How big was it?”

for that,

my little Parr,

will be our

secret.