In the growing twilight a lone trout rose uninterrupted from the placid mercurial waters quietly sipping dying mayflies haplessly adrift. With each audible rise and residual tranquil dissipating ring of death the urge grew, yet I cast not a fly nor moved to do so. I simply grasp the moment to relished the simple yet poetic act of life; an act that only over time I’ve come to appreciate in simple observation content to not disturb that which was playing our before me.
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