Morning mist from flowing water rises, And wafts like clouds swirling through the sky. The trout beneath are one of life’s true prizes, Drifting upward to take a matching fly...
I have lost myself in the gentle waters
of the Bois Brule River once again. The light is fading as I creep along
its boulder-strewn edges. Peering through the rolling fog and drizzle, I
spy a brown drake adrift along the tag alders lining the opposite bank...
