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Posted by MFish

A narrow ditch, perhaps three feet wide,
meanders; through a Rancher's field.
I'm not sure how deep it was
or how fast the water moved.
I remember, years ago, fishing
in this ditch, just a few times each year.
I never told anyone about the location,
until years later.
Generally a fisherman is reluctant to share
fishing locations, not even with close friends.
I was that way. I would tell those that asked
a general location, omitting much detail.
I would catch 3 or 4 Brook Trout,
10 to 14 inches long, fat from the rich
food supply of the irrigation ditch.
A great memory for me.

The randomness of words,
lay on my plate.
Too many words may come
and they will suffocate.
The thoughts that are now
running through my head,
wishing they were happy,
but No; fearful instead
The words have become hateful;
not what they should be,
for I care for my own
and for strangers too,
as life has given pause
of what one can do.
A scary situation. It's been hard,
for if you are not diligent
and let your down your guard
you could be the victim
of Co-vid nineteen.

I pray to the heavens.
I utter no sound,
For my prayer in
Words, cannot be found.
I pray for the souls
Of those struck down,
By the virus, Pro-vid 19;
One of the words pandemic
The World has ever seen.
What do we do?
Where do we stand
When it has been months
And there still is no Plan.
No plan from the current regime,
Who doesn't care one little ounce,
But looks only at the Stock market bounce.
A terrible choice, at least to me
As the decisions made, lives in infamy.

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