Fishing the Ashokan in June

Water still cold so a flannel shirt
was too little in a metal boat
and after an hour on the water
I begged to be put ashore, swore
I was hypothermic, was colder
than ever before and no longer
cared if fish would be biting
any minute. And when finally I
fell onto the front seat of the pickup
and slammed the door shut behind,
even the warmth of that closed cab
in the sun was not enough to instantly
rouse me from stupor. I lay there
loving the warmth like a lizard
until the others returned from the water,
none suffering as I had from cold,
but all as fishless as I was.