Christmas day on the river, hands raw in the damp air, leaden skies dropping intermittent white flakes that vanish with nary a moment to linger upon my coat. The solitude enhanced by the river rolling over rocks and the mallards, geese and gulls feeding downstream. Beads of ice glimmering on broken, bent and brown weed stalks
A chartreuse crankbait bouncing and bounding from rock to rock on it's path where clear water meets green is interrupted repeatedly by bronze.
Peace
12-25
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Norm Minas
- Posts: 296
- Joined: Mon Apr 12, 2010 1:18 am
12-25
What a long, strange trip it still is .
Put a glide in your stride, a dip in your hip and come onto the mother ship .
Put a glide in your stride, a dip in your hip and come onto the mother ship .
