I Know a River Where the Fish Fly in the Sky
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Little Boy Fishing
Antonio Ermolao Paoletti (1834 - 1912)
I know a river where the fish fly in the sky.
Sheltered by boundless ember morning sky,
a lull stillness, it refuses to say goodbye;
I breathe deep in submission quiver and sigh.
Drifting upriver in my small fry fishing boat
wishing for a plate of fried fish, so, I wore my lucky coat.
It's out there waiting for a moving worm afloat.
A dragonfly hover by, big bass launch into the air.
Dangling my pole over the boat there, I stare.
Speckle trout; come with me, my cupboard is bare.
I spent all day as the fish just laughed,
bait writhe at the end of the hook as they passed.
Splash! A nibble, then a take. Holy Moly, largemouth bass.
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