I like the way the river flows,
over the rocks with the browns and the bows.
The cool water running over boots,
the way my line shoots.
Out of the rod, into the air,
makes me just a little more aware.
Of the places I’ve been, the scenes I’ve seen,
the trout I’ve caught, living on a stream.
The sky is big in the country around here,
the snow is still falling, but spring is near.