Imagine a life... [Archive] - Fly Fishing Forum

: Imagine a life...

05-04-2002, 06:35 AM
where tides didn't matter? Where the invasion of vast numbers of species from silversides to sand eels to stripers to bluefin tuna provoked nothing more than a passing thought on the way to the restaurant? I am so glad to be a saltwater flyfisher.

It's interesting that the earth and moon are like a parent twirling a child by the arms in the front yard - the center of mass of this playful embrace is not the center of the parent's body but a point that is shared between their bodies. Such is the dance between earth and moon; the gravitational forces pulling the tides must combine with the centrifugal forces pulling away (like the child) from the other side of the earth to produce the phenomena we call tides.

So the next time you watch the power of the tides at dawn, be proud to be part of a small percentage of humans who care, and be glad you are out playing among finned friends as mother earth twirls her moon child around in the cosmos.

05-04-2002, 03:42 PM
You got it Juro, so well said. It's got to be something that goes way back to the start of it all. Wish I was there for dawn patrol or a moonless night slowly cruising the dark granite shadows of the outer harbor, just to feel and listen to the actions you talked about.

05-07-2002, 01:12 PM
Our tides here are piddling little things, so when I think of centers of gravity I remember the cape. This one's pretty raw but I think it fits the topic.


A Falling Tide on Brewster Flats

I over-vault into the reaching space of sand and sun
and joyful momentary midair elements that bond
me to this place. I clatter laden down the feet of kissing-cool June air
toward meeting with the falling fading surface and
I telescope sight through into the millimetric braiding of the sand,
flashing grains persuaded to momentary flight on tide,
tiny steps that make a mile of slick sunwet sand that shifts
and wavers its whole of force, violently changing by fours
and circles and cycles but staying, for my Junes, the same.

But set those hooks well, one against the now and one,
the other way, against the later flood; when the time comes to
climb back up I'll have ebbed myself along the branching bars
and out to beckoning green, and my eyes will still be
seeking long grey gliders that the tide delivers.
I may forget what tides take--and fish my last here, telescoping sight
aloft and through a final rise, regretting tardy flight
and final flood-tide sips of ebbing cool June air.

05-08-2002, 05:55 AM
Ouch Dave, that felt like a kick in the Chronicles:hehe: