A mayfly landed upon the rimOf my Tilley hat near the brink of the brimAnd it rested there while I mowed the lawnAnd it made me think of days, now goneOf fly fishing, of the line and the fliesThe anticipation of the hoped-for riseOf a fish, of a trout, now the take and the tugas …
It happened to be a Sunday morning when I first noticed her. She was standing in the back yard, not far from the house. She wasn't between places. She was here with a purpose. I thought it was strange. Ducks don't usually visit us. We're more of an oriole, mourning dove, cardinal, black-capped chickadee and …
A Coffee State of Mind 