More than a fish, I’m an idea, a dream,
You think I’m a salmon swimming upstream.
I’ve swallowed the bait of your gauzy flies,
A mesh surrounds me: all your false lies.

You’ve woven this net, but you cannot kill
My memories of the Gulf Stream, deep seas and krill,
Of leaping the rapids, to return to spawn
In the highland pool where my race goes on.

I’ll just move on, my colours, my breath,
Will fade to the rigid grey ghost of death.
But, just be still and listen, and you may hear
The song of the salmon, distant and clear,

A sussuration of fins, new eggs hatching
To journey to the ocean, to hear the waves sing.