Half-pint perch in sunlit water
Chase their shadows above the rocks.
A fisherman chews a cigarillo
Light brown in a darkly-golden face.
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Hi Brian, Good one. Like the vivid details of the fisherman. Also liked your Winter Misanhrope. What self-respecting poet fails to write poems about Spring in Spring. Nothing new from me. Got some things in the works. Wish I had more time to devote to them. Communicated with RG this week regarding his Lockhartites poem. I always enjoy poems about the unchosen. Remember to tell me when you post anything new.
Now this is my kind of poetry right here. Dang! I want to write like this but I can't. Why? You write what you live right? Right. Maybe I need to go buy a pole.
Wow, I love it. When I was last in Orillia, no, I did not have the thrill of fishing, yet I can enjoy this through your poem. Lovely. Read mine - We the Unencumbered - Adeline