POEM TITLE
From Forth the Village
POEM
From Forth the Village
The blackness of the sea stretches out before us
Under the star studded sky.
At dawn tomorrow, from forth the village, we sail with the turning tide.
Our empty pots are loaded, dry coffers waiting to be filled.
Across high seas,we search for live treasure,
Where rolling waves swell and sweep our vessel skyward
Until they peak and climb no higher.
We steer our ship as she slides gently down while each wave crests and breaks.
On we sail, far from the Firth of Forth, toward our fishing grounds,
The vast ocean capped in shimmering foam,
Rocking us, in Nature's harmonious rhapsody.
If fortune holds, no rogue waves will rise
To strike us unaware, breaking over the hull to swamp our deck
Or toss us like abandoned driftwood,
Stern shattered, sinking us to a watery grave.
The sea birds circle overhead, calling to one another.
The breeze, a soft caress, cools our sun burned necks.
The salted air reminds us of the life beneath: lobster, crab, and fish of every hue.
Occasional spouts astern reveal a behemoth swimming to far-off mating grounds.
She eyes us uncertainly, assessing whether we are friend or foe,
An interloper, some unknown species with whom she must share the sprawling seas.
She swims on, breaching and diving, her flukes in the air, a wave goodbye.
We cast our nets and pots, backbreaking work while we watch the sky.
Over and over, we cast and haul, cast and haul, bobbing with the rhythm of the waves,
And when our hull is full, our quota reached,
We set our sails toward home.