The sea hails,
As the wind favors the set of sails,
Stretching across the azure waters.
Inch by inch, the fisherman
Pulls the anchor, as he prays
For the bountiful catch.
He wipes the sweat,
The tense lines across his forehead.
As he stares at the skies, just one more
Season, one more good omen.
And then life without the ocean.
What would become of him,
For all he has known
Are the rods, the nets
And these salt burns;
And the fresh smell of bait
He carries with him home.
He knows the language
Of waves, the tides and the full moon.
And even his bleeding hands never
Cease to work, to admire
At the sea’s harvest. For it humbles
Him, and it fills his soul.
Time is short.
As the bittersweet tune
Plays, to the sound of his leaving.
But not so easy does the story go,
As the mistress owns
The mermaid chant; whispering,
I am in your blood,
And I will never leave you.
Janete Cabral Copyright 2007
As the wind favors the set of sails,
Stretching across the azure waters.
Inch by inch, the fisherman
Pulls the anchor, as he prays
For the bountiful catch.
He wipes the sweat,
The tense lines across his forehead.
As he stares at the skies, just one more
Season, one more good omen.
And then life without the ocean.
What would become of him,
For all he has known
Are the rods, the nets
And these salt burns;
And the fresh smell of bait
He carries with him home.
He knows the language
Of waves, the tides and the full moon.
And even his bleeding hands never
Cease to work, to admire
At the sea’s harvest. For it humbles
Him, and it fills his soul.
Time is short.
As the bittersweet tune
Plays, to the sound of his leaving.
But not so easy does the story go,
As the mistress owns
The mermaid chant; whispering,
I am in your blood,
And I will never leave you.
Janete Cabral Copyright 2007