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Its Smallmouth Time
Its late autumn
Gone are leaves of color
That glow in reds and gold
At dawn barren trees
Reflect in frosted silver
Upon mirrored glass
Standing tall against
Cliffs of ashen stone
As the sun begins to rise
Long dark shadows fade
To weathered meadows
Across retreating fields
Dew laden spider webs
Sparkle as prism lace
Upon the honeysuckle
Somewhere across
The shimmering lacustrine
Echoes a loon’s haunting call
Its smallmouth time
That “tap-tap” on your jig line
That “top-water” explosion
Evoking child-like emotion
I know you agree
There’s nowhere else
I would rather be
Roy L. Nave
October, 2013
Tremendous! I admit I had to look up "lacustrine" thoughIts Smallmouth Time
Its late autumn
Gone are leaves of color
That glow in reds and gold
At dawn barren trees
Reflect in frosted silver
Upon mirrored glass
Standing tall against
Cliffs of ashen stone
As the sun begins to rise
Long dark shadows fade
To weathered meadows
Across retreating fields
Dew laden spider webs
Sparkle as prism lace
Upon the honeysuckle
Somewhere across
The shimmering lacustrine
Echoes a loon’s haunting call
Its smallmouth time
That “tap-tap” on your jig line
That “top-water” explosion
Evoking child-like emotion
I know you agree
There’s nowhere else
I would rather be
Roy L. Nave
October, 2013![]()
I agree. I'm hoping to take my first smallmouth trip of the season on Friday....weather permitting.
They have been knocking the paint off of white/chart "lancustines" for about a month now.....i wouldnt throw anything else this time of year.
Another GREAT ONE! Thanks to the "Dix River Poet" for sharing his thoughts with fellow smallmouth fishermen and those of us who enjoy nature. Thanks Roy!!!. Heres hoping you make it down to Dale this season for some FNF smallmouth fishing, sure one of those smallies or eagles are ready to give you a memorable experience from which you may find inspiration to put your new thoughts to pen and paper. Fish on my friend (and please continue to share your verse).Its Smallmouth Time
Its late autumn
Gone are leaves of color
That glow in reds and gold
At dawn barren trees
Reflect in frosted silver
Upon mirrored glass
Standing tall against
Cliffs of ashen stone
As the sun begins to rise
Long dark shadows fade
To weathered meadows
Across retreating fields
Dew laden spider webs
Sparkle as prism lace
Upon the honeysuckle
Somewhere across
The shimmering lacustrine
Echoes a loon’s haunting call
Its smallmouth time
That “tap-tap” on your jig line
That “top-water” explosion
Evoking child-like emotion
I know you agree
There’s nowhere else
I would rather be
Roy L. Nave
October, 2013
