Trout

 

Trout flicker
through the clear running water,
silver sparks
too quick to be hooked.

They dart between stones,
slipping through currents
that twist and shimmer
like liquid glass.

Sunlight catches their scales,
and for a heartbeat
they flash,
then vanish again,
leaving only ripples
and the faint echo of motion.

I reach,
but my hands grasp only air,
cool and flowing,
like the moments
that slip past us every day.

The stream hums softly,
a voice without words,
teaching patience,
teaching wonder—
to watch without holding,
to marvel without needing possession.

Flicker, dart, vanish—
the trout and the water,
the sunlight and shadow,
all dancing
just out of reach.

And I learn
that beauty need not be captured,
that freedom
is the quiet thrill
of something alive
slipping away,
again and again.

 

 

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Bhuwan Thapaliya

 

 

Bhuwan Thapaliya is a poet from Kathmandu, Nepal, who seamlessly blends his professional life as an economist with his passion for poetry. He has authored five poetry collections, including his most recent work, Slipping into Another World, published by Ukiyoto, and Safa Tempo: Poems New and Selected, published by Nirala Publications, New Delhi. Beyond his writing, he actively engages with the global literary community, having read his work and attended seminars in countries such as South Korea, India, the United States, Thailand, Cambodia, and his native Nepal.

 

 

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