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Morning at Lake Red Haw
choppy and cold river, white foam is gathering as if it has been in a blender
there is no sound this morning, no bird speak, no crickets, it is silent
I dipped my hand into the water, it was freezing like a frozen halibut.
A peanut butter cup made its way to my mouth, I tasted salt and chocolate
I could smell fish this morning, a dead bass or bluegill, most probably.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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