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MY BATTLEFIELD Standing in my battlefield, a fight fought much to rare. Soothing springtime breezes, gently brushes through my hair. Alone now in the river, I must make by battlestand. Just me and my flyrod, 'The Trout' verses 'The Man'. Flurries of my battles past, I look back as I reflect. On the enemy to fight with 'Honor' giving him his due respect. My waders are my marching boots, my flyrod is my sword. I fight for mind's survival, and 'The Trout' is my reward. A shield of canvas armor protects me, as it drapes across my chest. I feel my pulses beat as war-drums, pounding 'neath my fishing vest. My bullet is a fishhook wrapped, with feathers and fine thread. Though I prey stalking my quarry, still, I never wish him dead. After I make my capture, gently, I give him back his earned release. Tomorrow, reflect on yesterday knowing, today I found and made great peace. |
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