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
Copyright © Karen Croft | Year Posted 2024
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