The Simple Fisherman
His hands, calloused and rugged; blisters worn thin by time and toil,
repeat this morn the rites oft played out by his forefathers,
so many mornings, too numerous to count.
The pull of muscles stretching to take up the slack of the rope that
seems to have no end...Pull - Heave! This timeless
tempo repeats in a monotone as solemn as a dirge.
Silence envelops the small craft; as thick as a fog, broken only by the
soft slap of waves on wood.
The pull of muscles stretching to take up the slack of the rope that
seems to have no end...Pull - Heave! This timeless
tempo repeats in a monotone as solemn as a dirge.
Silence envelops the small craft; as thick as a fog, broken only by the
soft slap of waves on wood.
At long last - Lo! The prize is in sight.
The dark secret depths slowly, painstakingly offer up with great
reluctance the precious treasure from the abyss.
Awesome gems; colorful as the rainbow, a cornocupia! Once hidden in the
depths below, they now tempt dawn's frail light.
The dark secret depths slowly, painstakingly offer up with great
reluctance the precious treasure from the abyss.
Awesome gems; colorful as the rainbow, a cornocupia! Once hidden in the
depths below, they now tempt dawn's frail light.
Goddess Eve slowly rises from her cradle on the Eastern Horizon and
banishes proud Luna, mistress of the night to her abode in the West.
His precious cargo safely nestled in the hold, his workworn hands now
man the oars of the humble vessel and weary eyes turn towards shore,
and the long journey home... The oars fall into the familiar rythm
seemingly effortlessly, and the boat glides slowly yet ever surely
towards the shores of home.
He knows that anxious eyes are searching the horizon in eager
anticipation of his arrival, but his mind touches not on such mundane
matters; his thoughts only on the fall and the beat of the oars gripped
tightly in his hands. His aim to conquer the rising waves whose
constant pull at his boat cause him to strain.
At last the strand is breached. His hunched and aching back at last
finds release from the pain and toil of his labors, and he stands
upright and glories in the absence of aches.
Varied greedy hands fumble in haste to take hold of any part of the
treasure that is within their reach, to lay claim to the bounty that
lies within the hull of the tiny "ship".
All the while he sits in
amused silence and smiles patiently.
The cloying hands quieten suddenly - as though sated by their
conquests and small victorious claims. They offer up as though with an
afterthought; coins to him as though to soothe his loss of the bounty
he'd worked so hard to attain.
His hold is empty, yet a crooked smile graces his weathered face, as
the coins tinkle merrily in his pockets. The hop in his stride gives
evidence of his joy with life, and his stride gives lie to his apparent
age. Though wearied from his struggles of this morn, his fruitful
journey gives meaning to his course.
amused silence and smiles patiently.
The cloying hands quieten suddenly - as though sated by their
conquests and small victorious claims. They offer up as though with an
afterthought; coins to him as though to soothe his loss of the bounty
he'd worked so hard to attain.
His hold is empty, yet a crooked smile graces his weathered face, as
the coins tinkle merrily in his pockets. The hop in his stride gives
evidence of his joy with life, and his stride gives lie to his apparent
age. Though wearied from his struggles of this morn, his fruitful
journey gives meaning to his course.
Smiling, welcoming faces eagerly await his return - no thoughts of
treasure or coin sullies their innocent emotions...True love awaits him
at the end of this, his final leg of the ritual.
Dedicated to my father....the simple fisherman.(Claudius Allen Halley Sr.)
