Raymond A. Foss Poems

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The smell of the brook trout
percolated out from the tin foil,
the butter and lemon joining
the fresh catch, cooking in the edge
of the campfire,
readying our breakfast
after a nap in the early morning light
lost in this moment of memory,
sensing it even in the moment
this would be something to treasure
a bit of joy in the morning
on the edge of the lake
beside the tent and the canoe
waiting for the catch to be ready
Trout for breakfast

July 19, 2007 21:24

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