Trout Whisperer - Waiting

Driving home this time of year the spaces between potholes are much appreciated. Pussy willow fluffs in my driveway are some soft eye candy.
April’s sunshine has some heat, outdoor heat at that. That silver lining may be up there floating slowly past but there is only one cloud in that entire sky with a shining golden globe warming things.
It’s a fine morning, not too full of fish scales, but one salmon will be plenty of dinner.
April is an odd month for me, every year April tries to be outdoorsy but if you’re outdoorsy like someone I know, it requires a lot of patience in waiting for things with less mud puddles, warmer weather, less frozen rose bushes, less frozen lakes and less frozen rivers. And this April, like no other April in my life, makes me hope for May, May makes me want June.
In June I have blooming roses, roses like buzzing bees, bees are bugs, trout like bugs. I like trout, in June I plan on catching what June roses set in motion.
June is today, many days and nights, afternoons, warm rains, a first dandelion, robins hopping in the grass, a couple full moons, dirty fingers from planted pea pod seeds, tadpoles, lightning bugs, thunderous thunderstorms with sky cracking lightning, away.
You’d think at my age, I’d have learned to have more patience, and I know all good things come to those that wait, so I’ll wait.  
-The trout whisperer