Fishing of the Boat
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Amber sunrise, clouds flee
Brushing against the horizon.
Cool river's plashy bank calls.
Dawn awakes scatter rays.
End of bait string dangles,
Float swirls. First, a nibble,
Got a fish; it bit my finger
Hard and got away.
I once again cast my line
Just sat, watch, and wait.
Kipper in its depth nibbled,
Line took a tug, a splash,
Makes a dive.
Not again, it's off
Out into the open.
Pole away, oars in hand
Quiet push home.
11/2/2021
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2021
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