Wednesday, January 6, 2016


    Once on a cold morning
    I dived surprised in a
    Quiet world -- perch, bass
    Suspended in all directions.
    I couldn’t like them remain
    So swam toward a large
    Bass which slipped away

    And  sent others scurrying.
    I never took a shot.
    This morning clouds hung
    From the mountain.  The
    Air was damp but rain had
    Yet to fall.  We hiked along
    The crumbled levee where

    I took several shots.
    The air became dense.
    A swirl of fog-like cloud
    Sustained the feel of
    Being where no one comes
    And nothing waits
    Save one lone hawk

    Who glares contempt.
    What dare we who move
    Beneath, who aimlessly run,
    Who dash from the levee
    To dive in an ocean of
    Tumbleweed, who finally feel
    The rain beginning to fall?

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