On Day 654 of the daily poems we have found, hidden in your Editor’s files, another Buried Treasure. Our poet Jenna Plewes reminisces the hard life of an old fisherman.
Fisherman
Brine’s in my blood
I was rocked in the sea’s cradle
slept in a padded creel,
spent my life on slippery decks
skidding on fish scales, fingers
tangled in drag lines.
I know about fish – it’s a hard life,
sea don’t give easy, sea takes,
sucks men down.
Jo, Pete, young Billy-boy, I see them
in dreams, then cackling gulls
wake me, drive them away.
I’m beached now – lopsided
like an old boat,
but on a calm day, when the sun hits
the waves with little bright hammers
I can watch it for hours
out here on a warm bench.
Jenna Plewes