Yuba-Ku 12-7-2016

This withered river
The Cotton woods aflare.
Harvest moon sets, drizzle rain. 
Beatis emerge. 
Each cast a reflection of
a new year to come. 

Sometimes we go fly fishing not to really catch a fish, but to catch some time with another kindred spirit. Spending time on a river, walking miles searching, where hours can go by with out conversation. Thanks for the day!

No comments: