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Where do fish go when it rains?

Date Written: September 28, 2017
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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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