Morning on the river,
The Battenkill
Enveloped in mist;
The sun dim behind the clouds.
Bundled up,
I wade into the river.
Slowly the mist lifts.
But the trout remain hidden.
The sun
Breaks through.
The river sparkles.
Blue pushes back the grey.
Mr. Trout, where are you?
May, 2019
poems for friends 
Harry — Gary Snyder would be proud of you ! Nice poem ! bc
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Gary Snyder would be proud of you ! Nice poem Harry ! bc
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Thanks Bob.
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That was fun. Thanks Harry!
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You are becoming the Battenkill poet!
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