“Fishing on the Provo River”

Wednesday, November 19, 2025--Poetry Day 19

Fishing along the Provo River

“Fishing on the Provo River”

I went fishing recently, first time in decades.
At first, I was a bit skittish as I drove up
the canyon in the early light of morning,
history emanating from across the way.

I remembered that fishing was therapeutic
as a kid, and it was going to be now—
or so I hope still with some trepidation.

Three of us convened at Vivian Park
on the Provo River, tromped upstream
as the sky turned blue tinged with orange,
ultimately and found a few deep holes
and gurgling water around giant boulders.

There we humbly submitted to the river
and its constant flow of water,
our new poles and lures poised
to entice fish to come join us.

With each cast, we listened intently
to the melodic sounds of the river,
flowing downstream in rhythmic tunes
of peace and comfort, lapping
at outcropping of rocks and bushes
along the sides of the river, allowing us
some time to ponder, even contemplate,
our very lives at that moment.

We didn’t mind that no fish rose to take
our flashy lures, some disguised as food,
like a blue fish, something Utah fish
apparently had never seen before.

Towards the end, Alex and I just watched
Kevin fling perfect casts into the dark pool
that once was reserved for kids, now open
to anyone who had a pole and wanted to fish.

Kevin McDowell fishing from a rock
in the middle of the Provo River

Fishing and philosophy heaped with psychology
and hints of times past somehow confluence
perfectly, especially early in the morning
along a rushing river as we talked,
reminisced, and hoped for better times.

Kevin and Alex fishing