The frosty days will, soon have fled,
Replaced with balmy times, instead;
And as the warmth of Spring appears
I set aside my win'try fears
To fly, unfettered, as the breeze
To any fishin' hole I please
To test my skills with trout or bream,
Or maybe...'catch' a glimpse of Him.
The fish may leave my bait alone
To 'flop' with glee when I am gone
Devoid of fish, my creel may be,
But pleasant thoughts go home with me.
It's not the ones that get away,
Or ones I catch that 'make my day'
It's not the venture by the creek...
It's listenin' to the Master speak!
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