Going fishing

I miss early mornings the chill on my legs in the boat as we glide easily across the lake the smell of fish and earthworms the sound of birds in a faraway tree I miss hearing the water ripples as fish come to surface I miss my great aunt and uncle teaching me to fish as I cast the line and hook the back of my shirt not once but several times I miss the lake and it's surroundings wondering after 36 years how much it's changed