A Poem for Curtis

I stumbled upon this poem today...

Listen to the wind.  The rustle of the trees.

The laughter of the loon. Floating on the breeze.

A storm of vicous intent, a gentle healing rain.

You will hear my voice call to you, again, again and again.

I will never be far away, in the the first rays of dawn's precious light.

And when you lie down to sleep, say a prayer for me and memory keep.

Always let laughter flow, for me my friends, never weep.



Out of Season- Indian Summer

Tying flies is a strange and moody thing for me.  I have to be in the right mind set.  Having a few beers or a nice Islay scotch on board can get me ready and willing to tie up a dozen flies.  Music has recently become essential to my tying efforts. 

A bit out of season, but, still a sweet thought.  Thank you Mojo.

I love you the best
Better than all the rest.
I love you the best
Better than all the rest.
That I meet in the summer.
Indian Summer.
That I meet in the summer.
Indian Summer.
I love you the best
Better than all the rest.