Truth Is Stanger Than Fishin'

I sat on the bank of the Middle Fork,  

My line cast in the shimmering pool, 

Like hopes thrown casually into the future. 

I thought about how truth, slippery and elusive, 

Was a lot like the trout I never caught. 

I could bait my whole life with what I thought was honesty,

Only to reel in the most unexpected things—

Old boots, tangled sticks, climate change denialism, or sometimes, 

Just the sun glinting off the water, mocking my expectations. 

"Truth is stranger than fishin'," I said aloud, 

Watching a dragonfly skip across the ripples, 

Its wings touching lightly on the surface, 

As if testing the reality of water itself, 

Daring to dance on the face of the deep.