Casting From Chinnapatkin Bridge Morning I am becoming an old man on the slopes of a tall mountain. Counting stars, rising no higher than the Chinnapatkin in Spring. Noon Upstream is no utopia. Do not struggle against currents. Forget spawning; breathe, breathe noon air and die. Evening Upcountry leaves fall along banks of the Chinnapatkin. Swept into mainstream, they rot while slowly sinking into its depths. Night There are no limits on the Chinnapatkin: Take what you will; return if you wish. John Horvath, Jr.
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