The FishermanA Poem by Cherrie Palmer
Fresh line on reel and gears all oiled Tackle gathered and poles packed One thermos served hot and fly’s on my hat The Sun is trying to wake as I stealth to my hidden place No phones to ring, no memos to send no legal’s to proof. As I play to the wind and speak not a word, hope for the best As a ripple I see, with patience I’ll bait the lunker I’ve planned And all before I wet my first lure and cast off from land. © 2012 Cherrie PalmerFeatured Review
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3 Reviews Added on October 28, 2011 Last Updated on August 16, 2012 AuthorCherrie PalmerSpringfield , MOAboutI am a published poet and love poetry. After a lifetime of country living, I'm making a move back to town. I find my surroundings a great inspiration to me. I also have two books on Amazon Kindle: .. more..Writing
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