early morning sky (fisherman’s peace)

72

feet crackle through the dry brush of a left over winter foliage, brown and dead.

the coolness from the night’s starshine lingered.

up on the horizon the sun breaks,

peaking through the grey overcast of  an early morning sky.

twenty feet ahead lies a clearing,

set the tackle box down,

and seek the favourite lure, set the hook –

casting back and casting out,

soaring  through the air

the bait hits the water and sinks down below the surface

disrupting  the mirrored stillness –

the ripples traveling closer to where you stand

this is the place where one comes to think

this is the place where problems find their answers

this is the place where you can hear the silence that surrounds

and this is the place where you can come to restore

to catch or not to catch, really doesn’t matter

look  upon the trees on the distant shore

and find the birds singing  their midday song.

casting back and casting out,

what have you found?

just an early spring days sun,  warm and welcoming

the bait hits the water and sinks down below the surface

disrupting  the mirrored stillness –

the ripples traveling  closer to where you stand

if one hand fishes and seeks

the other reels in

and so it goes,  to the peace that was found

a fisherman’s good-bye

feet crackling through the dry brush of a left over winter foliage,  brown and dead.

the coolness from the evening crept back in the day ,

up on the horizon,  the sun slowly disappeared.

of orange and pinkish reds,  all of an early evening sky.

 

 

 

c. 2014  bgw

 

 

About bradford graham west

enjoy poetry about life, emotion and everything in between. it's real and true. - please read and enjoy! - bgw
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