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Where do fish go when it rains?

Date Written: September 28, 2017

Angling a bridge while swishing a midge, deep with in the pool chasing  tadpoles.


Turn on the pan the fry is in my hand, nursing a hurt try felting an exocoetus.


Real and real is that a flounder an eleven pounder? 


Quill thet trawl shagged in alga.


Shade the shad secure it to the sumac, heave a hook in a brook and snag a chinook.


Flick some filament in a chasm, land that phantasm and illuminate all that angle allegory. 


Channel that cat prepare with care a batter for it to ware, troubled by trout have no doubt.


Ponder as a pollywog metamorphosis into a frog.


Snag and tag as the spool winds and wines.


Is that a trophy, was I just miffed?


All the lore and gore fishing is far from a boar, drag yourself to the lake it's no mistake.


Wade in the weir, who cares if you're not there in your office chair?


Sing with your line in a spring catching ling.


Holler you found that silver dollar in that aquarium tower.


Tuna on the deck, hauled in off that wreck.


Wherever you go you're sure to find a fishing hole.

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