The tide rises
the day returns
but nevermore, returns
the traveler to the
shore, And the tide rises, the tide falls.
I think of the outdoors when I read these lines from Longfellow's poem today.
I hope the tides eddy and collect into a pleasant oxbow lake.
A lake full of restless trout.
And all of the trout, restless and ready to bite on a bit of worm,
hanging on a hook,
dangling from a string,
connected to our white and spotted aspen twigs.