Those Long Rods
Leaf after leaf
Has fallen through
Autumn's fading light
Evening after evening
The blinding glare
Burns in silver white
Long are the early shadows
Gone is the sun's harsh touch
Fret not the drying sheathes
Of summer's past
Let them lie upon the earth
To blow, to sail away
Let the seasoned oak
Rise from the chimney
Let the silence be broken
In the crackling ash
For which I will not hear
Because its those long rods
And duck-feather jig
That pulls me away
To fish another winter's day
Roy L. Nave
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