Fish Lake Poem by Jamie Wallace

I feel the cold crisp air rush my face,
as i step out of my rustic cabin.
I breath in the fishy lake water
and the sweet pine trees.
It smells like heaven.

The sun is still behind the mountians,
as my family emerges from sleeping,
hair a mess and sleep still in their eyes.
Four ion the morning is ealy for most
but here its routine.

The lake is a sheet of glass.
it reflects the moon on the surface.
We fire up the boat with a cough.
Gliding through the water, we cast our poles.
And then we wait.