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.