Jon Homeless had a problem. The day promised glories, hot sun splashed through high trees, casting shadows of oak and walnut leaf across his broad back, but Jon was sunk in thought. The fish in this little pool between twin riffles were playing hard to get. He had already taken, and eaten whole and raw a few small ones, but that was not what had him deep in a muse. The here and now was lost to him. He mechanically drew and cast his line with casual skill, trying first the bank edge, then the center, then the head or foot of the pool as the random urge took him.