Ripples across the canal, wavering in an afternoon breeze,
reminding me of many times, fishing at our Arizona lakes.
Always having a great time, resting in the beauty of our
Arizona desert mountains, camping, fishing, boating, hiking.
Lines cast into the lake, waiting expectantly for a bite,
knowing that we will always get one, eventually.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem