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Fishing in The Dome's Image


I don’t feel much like writing anything this morning.

So guess what I am not going to do?

I am not going to point out that bridge across the lake.

And I am not going to call your attention to the other half of this lake on the other side of that bridge.

I am not going to wonder how long it took nature to eat away at that dome of a mountain and place all the fertile earth half way down where all those trees are growing and whose branches are full of birds and squirrels and fishers and owls and aromatic scents.

No – – – I am not going to point out, tell, describe or prattle on about this lake – – – or the dome shaped mountain in the center or its little sister to the left.

Neither am I going to say anything about this fisherman not having to worry about his boots filling up with cold water because the lake is so shallow he doesn’t have to concern himself about it.

Nor am I going to wonder what type of self-respecting fish would live in such a lake.

Is there no privacy for these fish in such a clear lake?

Are there such things as voyeur fish who seek other fish out for their own prurient interests?

And where are the ubiquitous water plants such as weeds, reeds and lily pads. What type of lake has no weeds for the insects to feed on and hide in – – – for the fish to eat – – – for the man to catch?

This is a strange lake indeed.

Yet it has a stark beauty of its own – – – much like people I don’t quite understand.

THERE! I didn’t say a word and I am quite pleased with my ability to shut up for a day or so.

© Copy written for what I will never know.

Credit to DARVILLS