Sunday, October 30, 2011

"Big Sky Land"
By Clearwater Frank

Montana's morn broke dark and drear as I scraped the frost off "Old Blue's" glass, the engine coughed then hammered some as I headed South toward Wolff Creek pass

The Missouri flowed by smooth and gray with a riffle every little way, I saw some geese upon a flat and a whitetail feeding in a draw,

As the engine warmed and my fingers thawed my thoughts turned toward what fly to fish, I thought about a brown as a Christmas wish,

Now I'm up to my knees in the chilly flow my Black Nosed Dace clouded in the snow which flutters down from the cold gray sky,

The wind is whistling past my ears should I head to Craig and have a beer, then the day is orr the score is nil, my body shudders with a chill,

I head for the farm out East of town as the sun is slowly sinking down, I'm home again with the fire's roar I have a warmth deep down inside from a day spent at the river's shore,

No fish today that was my lot but I care not of the total score, just spending time in "Big Sky Land" can make one's life seem truly grand.

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