The River
A quiet foggy morning. The river lies low.
A lone fly -fisherman is hoping to catch a trout.
Ripples and waves,
trickle and play.
The trees stoop over the water.
Reaching for their drink for the dawn.
Shhhhhhh.
A squirrel.
Nibbling the hickory nut away from its branch.
Snap.
Crunch.
Appetizer on a limb.
It’s breakfast ,
wilderness style.
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