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when the motor cut

the skiff chugs along
toward the end of the lake
where the tall peaks rise

snowcapped mountains ripple
across a backwash

an eagle
glides in a blue distance

a red and yellow float
mirrors itself
below the surface

one silvery fish slipping 
under
a deeply swimming sun

no way to catch that



Copyright © Eric Ashford

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Book: Shattered Sighs