The bass grow as long as your arm down by mr thompson's farm the flatrock river licks it's muddy ridge underneath of a covered bridge
emerald shiners mirror the light a grey heron takes to flight catching crawdads for a hopeful cast while the shoals of minnows pass
This is about my time when I lived in Rushville, Indiana. I used to fish under a very old covered bridge. It was the best fishing of my life, and I am pretty sure that I caught some record smallmouth bass. I never weighed them though.