Saturday, November 17, 2007

A fishing poem...

Moving around in the dark, I can't see,
I don't want to wake anyone.
Find all my poles, find my bait, find my shoes,
I'll get a head start on the sun.
Cast to that spot in the wake of the moon,
The muskrats and stars are my friends,
Sit in the shadows and silently wait,
Until my pole suddenly bends.
Words can't explain the adrenaline rush,
When I feel that tug on my line.
Days that begin with me catching a fish
Always seem to end up just fine.

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