Oh, noble guardian of the angler’s joy,
The unsung hero in a sport of stealth and skill,
Bearing the weight of dreams and hope,
You are but simple yet vital still.
In thy hollow embrace, our tool does rest,
Safe within, shielded from life’s harshest blows,
Sturdy and steadfast, a promise kept,
Guarding our companion as along the journey it goes.
From the busy airports to the rugged trails,
Thou endure the bumps, the drops, the slides,
Never faltering, in thy duty never fails,
A beacon of resilience against turbulent tides.
Thy exterior, touched by scars of adventures past,
Each scratch and mark, a story in silence told,
Of rivers crossed, of shadows cast,
And the dance of the fly in the morning’s gold.
Within thee, its power unseen,
A dormant dragon, wrapped in thy protective shroud,
Awaiting the moment to dance in the sunbeam,
To cast its line upon the water’s silken cloud.
You, the humble servant, the keeper of the craft,
Preserver of our passion, in your form so svelte,
In your duty, you’re deft and daft,
Cocooning our hopes, where our deepest desires are felt.
Without thee, the journey would bear much dread,
A voyage filled with caution, with fear, and with fret,
But in your charge, we stride ahead,
In pursuit of the catch, we have not met yet.
Here’s to you, oh fly fishing rod tube, so reliable, so true,
Our adventures’ silent partner, the tale’s unsung bard,
To you, we raise our hats; to you, we send our due,
For you carry more than rods, you carry our hearts, scarred.
An ode to you, a song of praise, of joy, and of thanks,
To the vessel, the keeper, the trusty fly rod tube,
On riverbanks, on sandy lakes,
You stand sentinel to our sport, to our soulful fishing brood.