Friday, January 22, 2010

34: Near the Pond Fishing

Years before we stood near the pond fishing, day fading into night. In one moment the air brushed the water surface. No voices, no sounds, except crickets, frogs, leaves. The splashing of water, the whirring of pulled line. Hey, I caught one, you said. I turned and you were gone.

1 comment:

Larry said...

Takes me back to some special times that i have spent fishing in ponds back home. Old memories are so precious.

Woman Called Rose