About the Poem
Many of my most memorable moments are of mornings spent at a remote beach alone with a fishing rod. These are some thoughts on tropical mornings and on life and death struggles.
Lone Fisherman |
| by Fred Hobbs |
| A morning sea like fractured glass, silver in the first moments of a rising sun lapping softly at the crusts of a sandy beach, deserted by all but one A fisherman, a weathered face eyes straining to see the thin clear line stretching taut across a breakerless surf whistling as the soft breeze passes vanishing into a world below Beneath the surface, a beach less abandoned teaming with silent life radiant with tropical color All, like the fisherman, searching for nothing more than the morning’s sustenance A bamboo rod, tall and defiant arches now to a familiar challenge while the tattered reel screams and grudgingly releases its precious holdings to... A creature struggling to live but doomed to perish in a world it does not know exists |
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1 Visitor Comments
sarah
Fred is one of my favorite people in the world. I feel blessed to have known him and thank God he exists. It would only stand to reason that I also appreciate his poetry, which, naturally, is as quietly beautiful as he is.
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