Salmon Fishing On The A'An. Poem by PAUL COLVIN

The Croft Inn on Glenlivet’s land
Was where we stayed, five summers past.
The River A’an, was near to hand
So that was where, our flies we’d cast.

A salmon rises to a fly,
We cast our lines, awaiting tugs.
With expectations running high
We think, these salmon must be mugs.

We see the fish all in a pool,
Approach with stealth, we take no chance.
The salmon, they see us the fool
And lead us on a merry dance.

We started with anticipation
Which quickly led to expectation.
That did not last, it’s now frustration,
For us tonight, no celebration!