Saturday Dawn Poem by Moth Harris
Saturday Dawn
Gental rain drops cast a mist on the old 'sippi river.
Not a catch not a care, a cold shimmer in the air.
Brisk and refreshing, old pine smell.
The swell of the water, a tale to tell.
Well I've got my old fishin' poll, wieght and lure
Made a good life as an entrepreneur,
but money has no worth in a place like this
A river and me, only the fish.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
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4/24/2024 9:09:11 PM # 1.0.0.1119
